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[25 Cts. 


Appletons’ 

New Handy-Volume Series 



GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


BY 

Madame CHARLES REYBAUD. 





ft 


D. APPLETON 


NEW YORK; 

& COMPANY, PUBLISHERS. 


Copyright by D. Appleton & Co., 1878. 


APPLETONS’ 


MW HIIDT-YOLUIE SERIES. 


BriUiavi Novelettes ; Romance, Adventure, Travel, Humor; Historic, 
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APPLETONS^ NEW HANDY-VOLUME SERIES. 


THE 


GOLDSMITH’S WIFE 


A STORY. 


WO 


BY y 

Madame CHARLES REYBAUD. 

S^Orn : - ■ ^ 



NEW YORK: 

H. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

649 AND 651 BEGAD WAY. 

1878. 


COPTEIGHT BY 


D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 
18T8. 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


CHAPTER I. 

On the evening of the FUe Fieu (a day ob- 
served with great respect by Proven 9 al people), 
in the year 1780, all the great houses of the city 
of Aix were, according to ancient custom, brill- 
iantly lighted up, and hung with garlands of rib- 
bons and flowers. Illuminations, representing the 
fleurs de Us of France, the arms of Provence, 
and the escutcheons of the noble families of the 
city and neighborhood, were suspended under the 
windows, over the doors, and upon the various 
churches and public buildings. These threw a 
rose- and smoke-colored light on the stone fa- 
9 ades, lighting up the old sculptures, and giving 
the gargoyles a sort of demoniacal expression. 

The soft clearness of a full moon mingled with 
these deeper tints, and all together conspired to 
dispel the shadows of the narrow streets, and to 
diffuse a sort of twilight, which sufficed for the 


4 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


recognition of acquaintances, and prepared the 
eye for the glare of the coming torches. The 
shop-keepers loitered on the steps of their housesj 
while a curious multitude promenaded the prin- 
cipal streets, watching for the fantastic cavalcade, 
which proposed to represent a pious drama com- 
posed by the Good King Rene. In this quaint 
conceit the troubadour king had mixed up the 
divinities of Olympus, the personages of the Old 
Testament, and caricatures of his political ene- 
mies. All was mediaeval, including the costumes, 
and even the trappings of the horses, which were 
ridden by mock knights in armor. The musicians 
played, on pipe and tabor, the old airs written by 
the troubadour king. Shrill cries of impatience, 
the true Proven9al way of expressing all emotion, 
resounded from the crowd of common people, 
who filled all the streets which radiate from the 
Hotel de Ville. 

The women were dressed modestly, wearing 
neither plumes, artificial flowers, nor jewelry, the 
most ambitious only permitting themselves a dash 
of that powder which was indispensable to an 
aristocratic head-dress. Distinction of rank was 
rigorously defined by dress in those days, and one 
needed but to hear the Proven9al dialect, and to 
glance at the dress of these people, to see that 
they belonged to the bourgeois class. Small mer- 
chants and even day-laborers composed the crowd 
which filled the street. 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


5 


As the trumpets announced that the cavalcade 
was about to march past the Hotel de Ville, a 
group of four or five young gentlemen burst rude- 
ly through the plebeian crowd and stopped at the 
corner of the Goldsmiths’ street. The new-comers 
hastened to appropriate to themselves the best 
places. They were handsome and stately men, 
dressed in the velvet coats, embroidered vests, 
lace ruffles, powdered hair, and chapeaux bras of 
the period. Young noblemen of the province, 
gentlemen of the court, gay, elegant, rich, and 
dissolute, they had already made themselves 
well known and feared in Aix. Their swords 
even had sometimes tasted plebeian blood, and 
they were not without the courage and the au- 
dacity which often characterize the man of 
pleasure. 

The people of Aix had, however, their own 
robust respectability, and were not disposed to 
give way before a type which, bred in the sensual 
salons of the Regency, had even then begun to 
lose its influence in the provinces. But, while 
angry and insulted by their presumption, they 
had still no mind to make a fight on the evening 
of their great holiday, so the crowd silently if 
sullenly ceded to these new comers the best 
places. 

One individual alone, who had stood since 
nightfall near the space which they invaded, 
partly hidden by a deep doorway, did not move. 


6 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


Jostle as they might, this man stood his ground, 
and seemed to become a part of them. 

The gay young nobles, legs wide apart, loud- 
voiced, and swaggering, made themselves as con- 
spicuous as possible, strutting about with all sorts 
of arrogant airs. Even when the illuminations 
failed to light them up, and to give them the 
prominence which they sought, they made them- 
selves evident by their loud laughter, the perfume 
of Mar'echaU which they shook from their ambro- 
sial locks, and their ostentatious jostling of the 
poorer people. 

One of these men, more quiet than the others, 
and with the easy elegance of a Parisian about 
him, said to the noisiest and most foppish of the 
group of popinjays ; “ Come along, Nieuselle ; I 
am tired of all this. Let us go home, I beseech 
you.” 

“ i^o,” said Nieuselle, “ not for another quar- 
ter of an hour. I ask your patience for that 
time.” 

“ Then I shall go, to while away the time, and 
flirt with yon pretty brunette, who looks at us 
slyly from the corner of her eye. By Jove ! a 
very pretty woman.” 

‘‘ You will not find it easy to draw her into 
conversation, I assure you,” said a third. 

“ Bah ! where there’s a Avill there’s a way. 
I will talk some nonsense, which will seem to her 
to be the essence of wit and gallantry. For ex- 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


7 


ample, I shall say, ‘ Your eyes emit flames which 
burn our hearts. Mine burns for you, mad- 
ame — ’ ” 

“ Madame ! She will think you are making 
fun of her if you call her madame. These people 
say mademoiselle, or to the married women mise, 
which is theProven9al for mistress of the house.” 

“ Gentlemen,” interrupted he whom they 
called Nieuselle, “ deign to listen to me for a mo- 
ment. It is not without a design that I have 
brought you here to-night. I want to show you 
the heroine of one of my last adventures. Let 
me tell you the story.” 

‘‘ What ! Nieuselle, you boast of your adven- 
tures ! ” cried a young man, dressed in the height 
of the fashion, with small clothes of olive-green, 
and a velvet coat embroidered with spring flowers. 

‘‘ Why not ? ” replied Nieuselle, arranging his 
lace sleeve with an air of magnificent vanity. 
“ The adventure was admirable, and does me 
honor. And beyond that, I am not like anybody 
else. I tell of my defeats as well as of my vic- 
tories. I know some very clever men who speak 
only of their successes, and Heaven knows they 
always have a great story to tell. I am not re- 
ferring to you, Malvalet. — Gentlemen,” added he, 
turning to the others, “ I am going to tell you 
this story presently ; but just now look before 
you, there, at the corner of the street.” 

‘‘I see nothing but a common goldsmith’s 


8 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


shop, sufficiently mediocre,” said the Parisian, 
“and in the shop a coarse, red-headed fellow, 
with his near-sighted eyes glued to his silver 
watch, as if he were counting the seconds.” 

“ And who turns from time to time to speak 
to some one in the inner shop,” added the vis- 
count. 

“Very well,” said Nieuselle. “For a month 
T have given myself the satisfaction of contem- 
plating this interior. I have stopped my carriage 
at this place where we are, and passed hours look- 
ing into this shop. It was an easy way to dance 
attendance, and I shall claim it as my invention. 
Generally speaking, I have had my labor for my 
pains, and gone away having seen nothing hut 
this pleasing figure of Bruno Brun ! ” 

“ That wretch is named Bruno Brun ! Rather 
inappropriate for a man of his complexion,” said 
the viscount, throwing a look on the pale-red 
hair, which, curling a little on the forehead and 
growing long, was tied with a ribbon behind, like 
the wig of a lawyer. “ The poor man looks like 
a sunflower, with his flat head and red locks.” 

“ I say that, to the great scandal of this quar- 
ter,” resumed Nieuselle, “I have come every 
evening to watch, yet I have managed with so 
much prudence that no one knows exactly why I 
am here, or what lady I honor with my atten- 
tions. Bruno Brun has no idea that it is his 
wife ! In fact, who the devil would suppose that 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


9 


I was in love with Mis4 Brun, a woman whom I 
had rarely seen and never spoken to ? ” 

“ Is she one of those thundering beauties who 
strike you down like lightning ? ” asked the Pari- 
sian, with a sneer. 

“ Thundering — yes, that is the word,” replied 
Nieuselle. ‘‘ I have fallen over head and ears in 
love, just from seeing her profile. This intense 
fancy brings me here every evening, and you 
could scarcely guess how much in love I am. On 
the other side of the street husbands open their 
terrified eyes, and the mothers of families forbid 
their daughters to go out of an evening. Upon 
my soul, wives and daughters have nothing to 
fear from me ; I am dreaming alone of my dear 
Rose.” 

Bruno Brim’s wife is named Rose ! ” inter- 
rupted the viscount. Another antithesis ! But 
continue your story ; it keeps me in suspense. 
Heaven bless me ! but I should have liked to see 
you in this tranquil attitude of benumbed lover ! ” 

“ Why do you call me a benumbed lover ? ” 
replied Nieuselle. “ Do you think I would have 
waited so long a time for the sole hope of seeing 
the profile of my divinity a second time ? I had 
something else in my head. I waited to see her 
go out some evening from her house, alone or 
attended ; it made no matter which. I should 
have followed her. A hundred steps from here I 
should have alighted, and should have seized her 


10 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


and carried her off. It would not have been dif- 
ficult. It was winter — nobody in the street ; the 
watchmen are never out after nine o’clock. I 
seemed very near to the fulfillment of my in- 
tentions. But the household of Bruno Brun is 
formed on a plan which defeats everything. His 
wife never goes out except on Sunday morning 
to hear mass in the church of St.-Sauveur, and 
one cannot run away with her by daylight.” 

‘‘ Ah ! my dear Nieuselle, I don’t agree with 
you in your way of doing things,” said the Pari- 
sian. “ I do not like making love with a mailed 
hand. It seems to me that in a love affair I 
should wish to win a woman’s heart by the ordi- 
nary method — visits, love-letters, gifts if you 
please. It is better, it seems to me, to win a 
woman than to seize her, Tarquin-like. It is so 
easy to abduct ; it is so vulgar, it is so rude.” 

“ If it had been vulgar, easy, difficult, rude, 
even possible, I should have done it,” said Nieu- 
selle. “ I see that you do not comprehend the 
severity of bourgeois manners. It is more diffi- 
cult to be introduced to one of them than to make 
the acquaintance of a princess of the blood. I 
have tried to get into the goldsmith’s house by 
passing carelessly through his shop. I have 
made many purchases of him, but his wife is 
never behind the counter. I have bought, I be- 
lieve, all his silver watches and many of his brass 
rings ; I have priced all the clocks in his stock, 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


11 


without having once had the happiness to see my 
goddess. As for love-letters, I have no means of 
sending them, for nobody has access to the house, 
whose gates are guarded by two frightful female 
demons — an old aunt and an old servant, who 
help tend the shop, keep house, and never lose 
sight of the young and pretty wife. After a 
month’s watching I retire, convinced that I must 
renounce the methods which I have employed. 
All these difficulties spur me on. I dream of her 
day and night ; I am enraged ; I am in despair ! 
At length an idea occurred to me, a diabolical 
idea. By the adroit service of one of my people, 
I found out all the private affairs of Bruno Brun’s 
father. I learned that old Brun, one of the re- 
spected heads of the honorable corporation of 
goldsmiths, had left his business to his son, and 
retired to a country house three leagues from 
here, near our estate of Nieuselle on the road to 
Manosque. Do you know that country, vis- 
count ? ” 

I remember. A narrow gorge in the moun- 
lains, of which travelers are shy after sunset. In- 
deed, I have heard there is one defile where ped- 
dlers are often robbed.” 

‘‘ The same. The road seemed a feasible one 
for an ambuscade, the spot where thieves often 
attack foot passengers. I resolved to become a 
highwayman and to steal, not Bruno Brun’s 
purse, but his wife. Now, listen, and admire the 


12 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


ruse by which I brought out this secluded female, 
who never even takes the air at her window, into 
this dangerous valley — she who knows no other 
road than that from her house to the church ! 
One day Vascongado, my coachman, dressed and 
taught by me, quitted his livery for a coat of 
brown cloth, sheepskin gaiters, and the coarse 
wooden shoes of a peasant. Thus disguised, he 
presented himself to the goldsmith, telling him 
with an agitated face that old Brun had had a fall, 
and was much hurt, saying, ‘ I am sent here by 
your father to tell you that he is almost dead. 
As it is a good day for business, however, he for- 
bids your quitting the shop, but he wants your 
wife’s care. As his next neighbor, I volunteered 
to come to Aix to find her. I saddled my ass, and 
came quickly. Good old friends should help each 
other when they can. We ought to start as soon 
as possible, for it looks like rain and it is getting 
late.’ Thus Vascongado ! 

“ Bruno Brun fell into the trap immediately. 
An hour afterward my turtle-dove left her owl’s 
nest, and flew softly toward the quarter where the 
adroit poacher had spread his snare. Yes, my 
good friends, a little before sunset Mise Brun, 
under the protection of Vascongado and accom- 
panied by her old servant, traveled toward Nieu- 
selle. As you know the country, viscount, you 
remember doubtless that, before arriving at tliat 
not-too-well-spoken-of inn, the Red Horse, the 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


13 


road winds round between great rocks which are 
like the ruined walls of a castle. It is a cut-throat, 
villainous place, where you cannot see twenty steps 
in front of you. I had placed my giant Siffroi, a 
haidouJc, there. He could carry off the witch He- 
cate ! I told him to take care of the old servant 
— pretty nearly the same thing ! ” 

“ This was a foolish risk, Nieuselle,” said the 
viscount. “What may you not have brought 
down upon yourself ? Justice will look after 
lovers who pursue their courtship in this style, I 
fear ! ” 

“ Justice will never hear of it,” said Nieuselle, 
laughing. “ Ho you think I declared my name 
and quality ? No ; I did better. I assumed the 
rdle of bandit among these rocks. I put a wag- 
oner’s coat over my hunting dress, a handkerchief 
around my chin, a big hat pulled over my face, so 
that there was nothing left but my eyes. Siffroi 
wore the same costume, and we looked like two 
very good thieves ; the disguise was successful. 
Meantime it began to grow dark, and I confess 
some disagreeable thoughts presented themselves. 
I saw a good many horsemen, dangerous-looking 
fellows, pass and repass. They seemed to be 
scouring the country. I unfortunately remem- 
bered that the band of that outlaw, that deserter, 
Gaspard de Besse, sometimes traveled this way, 
and I said to myself, ‘ What ? perhaps, instead of 
my dove being caught in my net, I, a lamb, may 


14 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


fall into tlie jaws of a very hungry wolf ! That 
was not down in the hills ! ’ I felt very uneasy, I 
assure you ! ” 

‘‘Why don’t you confess bravely that you 
were horribly frightened ? ” said Malvalet. 

“ A slight inquietude merely,” said Nieuselle. 
“ I forgot all about Gaspard de Besse when I heard 
a piping like a screech owl, which was Vascon- 
gado’s signal. I came boldly forward on top of 
the rocks, and took a position where I looked well, 
and could also reconnoitre the country. I waited. 
Night had fallen, but the moon, which was just 
rising, lighted the road so well that I could easily 
distinguish my prey. Vascongado and the ser- 
vant walked, my goddess followed, seated on the 
pannier. Never did white palfrey proudly carry 
a beauty so supreme as she who now guided this 
stupid farm-beast. She looked like the Virgin 
Mary, in the pictures of the flight into Egypt. 
When she was six feet from me I threw down a 
rock which barred her passage. As I jumped into 
the road, the poor thing shrieked aloud. ‘ Fear 
nothing, my queen ! ’ said I, with tenderness ; ‘ I 
ask neither your purse nor your life.’ ‘ Then let 
me pass, sir,’ said she, in a trembling voice ; ‘ let 
me pass, I pray you;’ and she looked for Vas- 
congado, who had disappeared. The old servant 
clung to her mistress and said her prayers. Sif- 
froi put one hand on her shoulder, while I threw 
my arm around the delicate waist of Mise Brun, 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


15 


but the fierce little bourgeoise jumped lightly to 
the earth. ‘ Do not approach me ! ’ said she, in a 
resolute tone, and I absolutely saw a knife gleam 
in her hand. She positively thought she could 
defend herself ! I terrified her with one word. 
‘ Silence ! ’ said I, in an awful voice. ‘ Whoever 
falls into my hands never escapes. I am Gaspard 
de Besse ! ’ ” 

“ Capital ! ” said Malvalet, shrugging his shoul- 
ders. “You made your first advances in love- 
making under his name, did you ? ” 

“ That is my business,” said Nieuselle. “You 
shall see how the plan succeeded. At the name 
of Gaspard de Besse, Mise Brun nearly fainted, 
and the old servant, thinking her last hour had 
come, committed her soul to God in an audible 
voice. 

“ ‘ Dear sir ! ’ said Mise Brun to me in her 
sweet frightened voice, and emptying her pockets, 
*■ take all my money ! ’ 

“ ‘ Keep it ! ’ said I, in terrific tones, ‘ and 
walk on before me, nor turn your head.’ 

“ She obeyed, weeping. The old servant fol- 
lowed us, under Siffroi’s wing. Mise Brun then 
tried to soften me. ‘ God in Heaven ! sir, where 
do you lead us ? I assure you, you risk much in 
doing this deed of violence. Let us go, and T 
swear by my hopes of eternal happiness that I 
will not denounce you ! Here, take my gold cross 
and my mopey ; it is all I have ! ’ 


16 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


“ ‘ Silence ! ’ said I, in a deep bass voice, which 
appeared to freeze the blood in her dear blue 
veins. 

‘‘We had almost reached the Red Horse inn 
when I heard a noise in the road behind me. A 
horseman came up at a fast trot; necessarily he 
would reach the inn before us. This was awk- 
ward. I feared a disagreeable encounter, some 
robber or some of the mounted police, perhaps, 
who were constantly sent out to search for Gas- 
pard de Besse and his band ; either would have 
been inconvenient. But I was reassured at the 
first glance. It was a good country gentleman, 
whose homely appearance announced the most 
pacific intentions. He acted queerly, however, 
rode near us, and looked at us suspiciously, but 
was passing on, when Mis4 Brun, with a presence 
of mind which I could not have expected, threw 
herself toward him and seized the bridle of his 
horse at the risk of her life. ‘ Ah ! sir,’ she 
shrieked, ‘ save me in Heaven’s name ! ’ 

“ He stopped quickly, and turned his horse’s 
head toward me. ‘What has happened?’ said 
he, feeling for his pistols. 

“ ‘ Defend yourself,’ cried Mise Brun to him, 
‘or you are lost. This — this — is Gaspard de 
Besse ! ’ 

“At these words my gentleman left me no 
time to explain ; he took aim, and at my head 
too. But for a cloud which happened to pass over 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


17 


the moon, I should have been a dead man. The 
ball went through my brigand’s hat. I did not 
wait for a second discharge. 

And you ran away ! ” intemipted the spite- 
ful Mai valet. “ For your honor’s sake, you 
should have vanquished your enemy or have died 
on the battle-field ! ” 

“ My dear friend,” said Nieuselle, “ this was 
not in my plan. I did not propose to win Mise 
Brun in a single combat. And besides that, it 
was now impossible, for her champion, supposing 
me to be Gaspard de Besse, would have shot me 
down like a wild beast before I could have ex- 
plained. I beat a hasty retreat, I assure you.” 

‘‘ That is to say, you ran like a rabbit across 
the fields toward Nieuselle. And yet you were 
three to one. Oh ! for shame ! ” 

‘‘Oh! do you believe that Yascongado and 
Siffroi were bravely fighting at my side ? By no 
means. The two clowns took good care to run 
away and hide in the rocks, leaving the old ser- 
vant also free to try her two legs. It was a 
general rout, a demoralized retreat. I followed 
them. They deserved a good caning, and I told 
them so ; but I forgave them on condition that 
they would behave better during the rest of the 
expedition.” 

“ What ! you still pursued your expedition 
after this check ? ” said Malvalet. 

“ In my place you would doubtless have given 
2 


18 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


up,” said Nieuselle, disdainfully ; “but I — Zbad 
more perseverance and audacity. Arriving at my 
chateau, I changed back again from bandit to gen- 
tleman. Vascongado and Siffroi resumed their 
liveries. Then we turned our horses’ heads tow- 
ard the Red Horse inn. The metamorphosis was 
complete. Far from looking like a brigand, I re- 
sembled more Amadis de Gaul, that hero of the 
opera, with my silver-embroidered vest and my 
hunting-hat ornamented with green ribbons. My 
hciidouJc, dressed in his Hungarian costume, was 
of course unrecognizable. My coachman was in 
the well-known time-honored livery of the proud 
family of Nieuselle, not at all the peasant in 
sheepskins and wooden shoes. Scarcely an hour 
after the scene in the road I arrived at the inn. 
Glorious ! I had achieved my object. Mis6 Brun 
was detained ! ” 

“ And she came of herself to the net ; she 
threw herself before you ; you had only to ex- 
tend your hand and catch your bird,” cried the 
viscount. “Bravo ! Well done, Nieuselle ! ” 

“ I alighted,” said he ; “ but, before entering 
this horrible hole, I looked into the windows at 
the group gathered in the cabaret. It was a singu- 
lar picture : A room full of smoke, at once par- 
lor, dining-room, and kitchen. Near a great fire 
of fagots, which sent out a weird light, crouched 
two old women, and between their yellow faces 
and distorted features beamed the adorable face 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


19 


of Mise Brun, who, pale and sad, heard without 
speaking the talk of her servant and the land- 
lady. I had to demand an entrance at this hour, 
for the doors of the inn were securely fastened. 

“ At length I entered with my suite, and the 
host, who knew me, introduced me with much re- 
spect into his kitchen. This apparition struck 
Mise Brun, I avow with all humility. She looked 
pleased. She made a place for me by her side 
near the fire, and then modestly returned to her 
reflections and reserve. 

“ ‘ Ah ! Monsieur le Marquis,’ said my host, 
respectfully, ‘you see some travelers who have 
just had a perilous adventure. The band of Gas- 
pard de Besse has been near here. They only 
passed this way an hour ago ! ’ 

“ Then I was obliged to listen to the story of 
my own flight and the prowess of the good coun- 
tryman who traveled with pistols at his saddle- 
bow, for his own security and to defend the help- 
less. 

“ ‘ If the roads are so dangerous as that,’ said 
I, ‘I cannot go on to Nieuselle. I must pass the 
night here. Get me up the best supper you can ; 
bring out all the good wine from your cellar. I 
will make myself easy until to-morrow.’ 

“ The host and his wife looked confused. ‘ Is 
there no room,’ said I, ‘ where I can sup, waited 
upon by my own people, and choosing my own 
company ? ’ 


20 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


The host ran to open an adjoining room, and 
showed me the furniture admiringly — six straw 
chairs and a bed hung with green woolen cur- 
tains, so dark that they looked like the draperies 
of a hearse. Throwing my eyes around the white- 
washed walls, I perceived under the recent paint- 
ing some brown irregular stains which set me 
thinking. ‘ What does that mean ? ’ said I. ‘ I 
see that your walls have been recently stained. 
What has happened here ? ’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! God bless you, sir, do not speak of 
that. Two men had a quarrel in the night, and 
one killed the other. Happily, nothing came of 
it, and it was not for me to ruin my house by 
calling in such justice as we have. They were 
alone in the house. Once my door is shut it is 
nobody’s business to inquire what passes in the 
Red Horse inn.” 

“ ‘ I know that,’ said I. ‘ Light me a good 
fire, set the table^ and when supper is served do 
you go to bed.’ 

“ The old rascal obeyed me. I returned to 
a seat near Mise Brun, and drew her into conver- 
sation. I congratulated her on having escaped 
Gaspard de Besse. I seasoned my conversation 
with well-turned compliments, but these humble 
-women have a kind of savage modesty over which 
it is not easy to triumph. She heard me without 
raising her eyes, or replying save by a gentle 
bow ; and, turning to her servant, she said, in a 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


21 


low voice, ‘ Let us go, Madelon, it is growing late.’ 
‘ What,’ said I, ‘ my charming creature, do you 
wish to leave me so early ? Remain, I beg of 
you, a moment longer. Where will you go ? 
Into those miserable garret bedrooms, where you 
will shiver until morning ? Make yourself happy 
here near the warm fire.’ 

‘‘ She stopped a moment, and looked as if she 
would linger by the fire ; then, as I insisted, she 
curtseyed with an adorable mixture of confusion 
and simplicity, saying, ‘ I thank you, sir ; it is too 
much honor for me. I cannot accept your invita- 
tion.’ 

‘‘ I laughingly barred the passage between her 
and the door, uttering all the follies I could think 
of. This time she recoiled, and listened with a 
dignity which alarmed me. My friends, you 
know women who baffle you, not with angry 
words, but with sullen silence ; a sort of deaf and 
dumb resistance ? It is a style which confuses 
the most audacious ! My orders had all been 
executed ; the host and his wife had disappeared; 
my servants were arranging the supper. I ap- 
proached Mis4 Brun. ‘Come, my pretty one,’ 
said I, with an air at once gallant and imperious, 
‘ I have resolved thr^t we shall sup together this 
evening. Grant me this favor with amiability. 
I am a gentleman. I assure you I do not brook 
contradiction. Destiny offers me an opportunity 
to sup with the prettiest woman in the kingdom ; 


22 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


do not defraud me of this unique happiness ! 
Come, permit me to hand you to supper.’ 

‘‘At these words I seized her hand and tried 
to draw her in to the supper-table ; but the old 
servant, coming toward me with the grin of an 
angry cat, said, ‘ Stop, sir ! do you not see that 
my mistress does not wish to accept your invita- 
tion ? ’ 

“ The old hag put herself between her mis- 
tress and me. I called my hdidouJc. ‘ Take this 
old cat,’ said I, ‘ and lock her up in the cellar. I 
do not wish to hear her meawlings.’ Then, turn- 
ing toward Mise Brun, I said, with all the cool- 
ness possible, ‘ You see, my queen, your refusal is 
useless. Trust to me ! let me hand you to sup- 
per !’ 

“ Far from replying to me, the angry beauty 
ran to a door which I had not observed, opened 
it briskly, and cried out loudly : 

“ ‘ Come, sir ! come quickly ! I beg of you, 
come to my aid ! ’ . 

“ ‘ Who is there ? who has arrived ? ’ shouted 
a voice I remembered well. It was that confound- 
ed country gentleman ! ” 

“ The man with the pistol — ^he still to the res- 
cue ! ” laughed Malvalet. “Well, you had noth- 
ing to fear this time. You were still three to 
one, and the honest innkeeper ready to lend a 
hand. That made four. You should have simply 
thrown this honest gentleman out of the window.” 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


23 


“ Yes, no doubt,” said Nieuselle, “ but un- 
happily I had not time. Before my Don Quixote 
could open the door or draw his rapier, there 
came a noise of tramping horses and loud-talking 
men, and a knocking. One of them ordered the 
door to be opened in the name of the king. It was 
a belated detachment of the mounted police, who 
came to spend the night at the Red Horse. These 
men had been in pursuit of Gaspard de Besse, 
having been warned of his presence in this ill- 
reputed place. In a moment the host and his 
wife were at the door to receive these new. lodg- 
ers. My country gentleman, having appeared by 
this time, opened his door, looked at me de- 
fiantly, seated himself near the fire, and, putting 
Mise Brun by a gesture next to the chimney, 
seemed to be ready to protect her against the 
universe. 

‘‘ The soldiers, meanwhile, dried their boots at 
the fire and established themselves in the kitchen. 
So I saw that it was necessary to dismount my 
batteries and terminate the campaign. Upon my 
soul ! I would have given a hundred louis if the 
entire band of Gaspard de Besse would have come 
to sack that miserable inn, and put all these 
wretches to death, leaving Mise Brun in the gorge 
of Luberon ! I was suffocated with rage. I 
could not sup. Meantime I had the pleasure of 
seeing a diverting scene. It was the captain tak- 
ing Mise Brun’s deposition ! She declared that 


24 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


the bandit had seized her servant and herself, and 
had tried to carry them off. I laugh yet when I 
remember that I made all this trouble, and that it 
will hereafter be added to the exploits of Gaspard 
de Besse ! 

Finally I went to bed, tired, baffled, angry, 
furious, and wishing myself at the devil. All 
night I had bad dreams. I started up every min- 
ute, half awake, and saw around me the blood- 
spots on the wall, which the fire-light made look 
more than red. I fell sound asleep after a while, 
and when I arose it was late; I learned that Mise 
Brun and her servant had gone off at daybreak 
under the escort of the country gentleman, that 
offlcious guardian of virtue, who had promised to 
deliver her safe and sound at the gates of the city 
of Aix. 

“So you have heard my story, my friends. 
What do you think of it ? My fatigues, my com- 
binations, all my stratagems came to naught, it is 
true ; but, whatever Malvalet may say, other peo- 
ple have been defeated ! ” 

“ Ah, Nieuselle, who thinks of doubting your 
valor?” said Malvalet, with his ironical leer. 
“Not I, certainly. I find, on the contrary, that 
you have done yourself justice when you say that 
all your stratagems have come to nothing. I see 
clearly they have brought about an interview be- 
tween your beloved and a cavalier whose devotion 
will inspire her with gratitude ; who has also had 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


25 


every chance to please her, being young, agree- 
able, handsome, and well dressed.” 

Nonsense ! ” said Nieuselle, shrugging his 
shoulders. “ I am not afraid him. The person- 
age in question had on a coat of green ratine, and 
he was adorned with all the hobnailed graces of a 
countryman who has never lost sight of the her- 
editary pigeon-house near which he was born. So 
much for his figure. As to his face, I saw noth- 
ing of it ; for, added to the fact that the kitchen 
of the Red Horse is not lighted like a ball-room, 
my gentleman was also seated in the shade and 
never lifted his hat — a broadbrim gray one which 
reached to his nose. No ; my turtle-dove would 
not listen to the singer, and I do not believe she 
would be taken by this barn-yard fowl.” 

“Well ! has the return of Mise Brun and her 
adventure been a nine days’ wonder in the city of 
Aix ? ” asked the viscount. 

“ No ! ” said Nieuselle ; “ it is not even whis- 
pered ! This discreet young person probably 
thought it not best to tell the whole story, and 
she devised a very good fable for the enjoyment 
of the public. I had accidentally chosen the first 
of April for my adventure, and Bruno Brun has 
told everybody whom he has met that somebody 
made an April fool of him, and had caused his wife 
and servant a journey to the Red Horse and back. 
As for the report of the police, that is of course 
a secret, and only known in the criminal court.” 


26 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


“ Do you tliink we shall see this pearl, this 
marvel, this rare jewel, hidden in the back shop 
of the goldsmith, this evening ? ” said the vis- 
count, who had become interested. He threw a 
glance toward the dull window, behind which he 
could just distinguish the flat profile of the gold- 
smith, who was still at work by the light of a 
lamp which stood on his counter. 

“I hope that she will come,” said Nieuselle. 
“ Whenever there is a procession she comes out 
and sits on her doorstep. I imagine that it is all 
the recreation she enjoys, poor thing ! ” 

Just now their conversation was interrupted. 
Loud trumpets sounded, preceding the entrance 
of the procession into the street, and the flare of 
the torches lighted up the sombre buildings. The 
impatient and delighted crowd waved to and fro, 
and saluted the spectacle with loud cries. The 
common people poured into the Goldsmiths’ Street, 
jostling the young noblemen, who had some diffi- 
culty in keeping their place in front of the shop 
of Bruno Brun. 

“ Let us move on, gentlemen,” said Malvalet. 
“ For an hour we have been in danger of being 
trampled down by these herds. And why? to 
listen to the disasters of Nieuselle, who has de- 
frauded us of a sight of his goddess — some ragged 
chit whom he has exalted to the seventh heaven, 
no doubt.” 

“ Be silent ! look ! ” said Nieuselle. “ She is 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 27 

coining — she is at the door. There she is — look 
for yourself ! ” 

“ Charming ! admirable ! divine ! ” said the 
viscount. 

“Yes, she is pretty,” murmured Malvalet, 
conquered by the evidence. “ Yes, she is beauti- 
ful.” 

The young woman whose appearance called 
forth these expressions of admiration had scarce- 
ly reached twenty years of age, and such was the 
delicacy of her features and the incomparable 
bloom of her complexion that she looked even 
younger. She had large, dark, melancholy blue 
eyes, and her long lashes and straight black eye- 
brows gave these eyes a peculiar and most fasci- 
nating expression. Her dress was of the simplest 
fashion. She wore a striped cotton gown, whose 
ample skirt was plaited full on her hips ; a cape 
of coarse white muslin covered her neck, modest- 
ly outlined her bust, and was tied with long ends 
behind her supple, round, and delicate waist. 
Her hair — dark chestnut — waved slightly over a 
pure and perfect brow, but was without an atom 
of that white perfumed powder which some of 
the women around her were covered with. A 
little cap, ornamented with carnation ribbon, hid 
her chignon^ and fell toward her neck and cheeks 
in full, regular plaits. While her husband’s pro- 
fession would have permitted her the use of some 
jewelry, she wore neither rings nor ear-rings, nor 


2S 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


any ornament save a little gold cross about her 
neck, and at the belt a set of silver chains hang- 
ing from a large and ornamental hook, which 
held suspended her scissors, keys, and purse. 
These modest ornaments were symbols of her 
rank in life ; they revealed the simple facts of a 
woman piously reared, of modest and industrious 
life — the careful and laborious days of a humble 
housekeeper. 

Bruno Brun had turned his head while his 
wife was waiting for him, and slowly arranged 
his tools in a drawer. When this operation was 
finished, he shut the blinds of his window, and 
locked his money-drawer. Mise Brun, leaning 
on the half-door, played with her silver chains, 
and seemed to feel neither impatience nor curios- 
ity. Meantime the cavalcade was approaching. 

“ Ah ! the patience of woman ! ” said Nieu- 
selle. “ God forgive me ! but she is waiting the 
pleasure of that idiot before she dares step out of 
the door ! ” 

“ She does not like to show herself in the 
streets,” said the viscount. “ She is afraid of the 
staring crowd. Pretty women and modest women 
are shy of that sort of thing.” 

“ She never will come out ! ” said Nieuselle, 
burning with impatience. 

“ Ah ! here they come,” said Malvalet — “ two 
demons, two female monsters ! Oh, but they are 
bad enough ! ” 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


29 


Yes, Mise Marianne Brun, or, as she was 
called in the neighborhood, Aunt Marianne, and 
Madelon the servant, were of the two types which 
represent all that is ugliest in human nature. 
They had the characteristic physiognomy of 
creatures in which the spine takes an angular 
turn outward. Their sharp features and meagre 
traits refused to express either good-humor or 
charity. Aunt Marianne had the same look as 
her nephew — ^that is, a family resemblance. Like 
him, she was red-haired, snub-nosed, pale, and of 
a sickly complexion, with eyes round and protrud- 
ing like those of certain beetles. But there was 
in her expression much more wickedness, more 
malice, something intelligent and resolute, which 
was wanting in that of her stupid nephew. Her 
ugliness was salient, his was negative. This old 
woman and the servant took the two end-seats of 
a bench before the door, leaving two empty places 
between them. 

“ Ah ! I have an idea,” said Malvalet. I want 
to see Mis6 Brun nearer. I will go and sit be- 
tween those two horrible hunchbacks.” 

At these words, profiting by some interruption 
in the march of the cavalcade, he darted over to 
the side of Bruno Brun, who, however, disappoint- 
ed him by sitting down beside his wife. 

There was a moment of confusion. The other 
noblemen followed Malvalet, and the crowd al- 
lowed them to pass. As they reached the other 


30 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


side of the street, they went behind the group of 
Bruno Brun and his family, leaning against the 
shop-window. Unseen by them, the cavalier who 
had been near them all the time, and who had 
heard every word that Nieuselle had spoken, 
crossed the street with them, and took up his po- 
sition on the other side under the shadow of the 
door. Nobody saw this manoeuvre, not even Nieu- 
selle, who was also keeping out of sight. Bruno 
Brun had scarcely noticed these scatter-brained 
young men, nor had he any suspicion of their in- 
tentions. The stupid fellow put on his glasses 
and tried to recognize the attributes of the gro- 
tesque divinities who filled the street, including 
the Apostles, King Solomon, and Christopher, the 
giant of Paradise. His wife had not noticed the 
young men at all ; she had no idea of the atten- 
tion she was exciting. Meantime Malvalet, tired 
of his role of confidante, and little desirous of 
seconding Nieuselle’s adventures, said to his com- 
panions : 

“ Gentlemen, this is becoming mortally dull. 
I shall leave. I do not care to dance attendance 
on Nieuselle’s manoeuvres. Let us go away.” 

“Yes; so say I,” said the viscount. “We 
will await you at the court.” 

They withdrew discreetly. Nieuselle, favored 
by a movement which took place among the 
crowd, placed himself behind the bench whereon 
Mise Brun was seated. The young woman did 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


31 


not perceive him, hut her old servant did ; and, 
touching her mistress’s aiun lightly, said in a low 
voice : 

‘‘ God have mercy ! That fop who asked you 
to sup with him at the Red Horse is just behind 
us ! Take care and do not look ! ” 

Mise Brun trembled, her cheeks suddenly 
flushed with a lovely color, and her eyes fell ; she 
was overcome with fear. 

“ Ah, Holy Virgin ! if he should dare to speak 
to you ! ” said Madelon, “ if he should dare to say 
that he had seen you, if he should be insolent, 
that would betray us to master ! ” 

“ He will not dare to speak to me,” murmured 
poor Mise Brun, more dead than alive, as she 
recognized Nieuselle by the perfume which float- 
ed from his hair, and realized that his mouth was 
near her ear. 

However, an obstacle intervened ; some one 
jostled Nieuselle. It was the mysterious cavalier 
who had followed the young nobleman across the 
street, and who now moved so near to Mise Brun 
that he could have touched her shoulder. This 
personage was dressed like a well-to-do farmer. 
His straight short jacket defined a vigorous and 
muscular shape. A leathern belt drew in his sup 
pie and slender waist. His cap, pulled over his 
face, surmounted a fine head of wavy black hair. 
He had a pale face, and his rather compressed pro- 
file Tyas of classic regularity. 


32 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


Nieuselle looked scornfully upon this imperti- 
nent j ostler, and, without apology, gave him a dis- 
dainful push, at the same- time trying to speak in 
a low voice to Mise Brun. But the stranger left 
him no time ; for, seizing him by the arm, he drew 
him away, and said sternly : 

“ I forbid you speaking to that woman ! ” 
These words were spoken with a force and 
energy which silenced Nieuselle for a moment, 
furious as he was at the insult. The stranger’s 
voice struck him, however ; he had heard it be- 
fore, and, spite his change of costume, he was 
convinced that it was the honest country gentle- 
man of the Bed Horse. 

Who can this be ? ” thought he. “ My Don 
Quixote in the disguise of a rustic ? ” 

Then, turning to the man, he said to him, in a 
tone half playful, half angry : 

“ That will do, sir ; please to stop your jokes. 
By what right do you interfere with me? Go 
your way if you please, and allow me to go mine. 
If by chance we are hunting in the same field, 
let each take his own course, not bar the road to 
the other, and best luck to him who first wins the 
good-will of the pretty creature who has charmed 
us both.” 

“ I forbid you speaking to this woman or even 
looking at her,” said the stranger, drawing him- 
self up to his full height ; and, taking the arm of 
Nieuselle, he drew him forcibly away still further. 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


33 


The two rivals faced each other with angry 
looks and flashing eyes. Nieuselle was not a 
coward, as Malvalet had hinted. No ! on his own 
ground he would not have endured this insult ; 
but, as he indeed possessed as much prudence as 
bravery, he bethought him that it would not be 
well to engage in a quarrel in the midst of this 
plebeian crowd, where all the sympathy would be 
for the woolen jacket, as against the velvet coat. 
He drew himself up with an air of not unbecom- 
ing dignity, and said to his adversary disdain- 
fully : “ I give you the place. We shall meet 
hereafter, I trust, in a spot more propitious for ex- 
planations ; and then, if possible, I shall demand 
of you the satisfaction of a gentleman.” 

Saying this, he made his way through the 
crowd, pushing people to the right and left. The 
details of this scene were lost to all those around 
them by the cries and laughter with which the 
crowd greeted the Chariot of Cythera. The 
queen was represented by a queer fellow dressed 
as a woman, who was coquetting in grotesque 
fashion as she appeared surrounded by a crowd of 
attentive admirers, curled and powdered like the 
marquis. The vibrations of trumpets, drums, and 
tambourines had stifled the words of Nieuselle and 
the stranger ; nobody had overheard them. One 
person alone had noticed the colloquy. Mise 
Brun had furtively cast her eyes that way, and, as 
the stranger returned to hisjjlace, she gave a grate- 
8 


34 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


ful look at LiVn who for a second time had saved 
her from the insolence of the marquis. It was as 
rapid as a thought, but their eyes met. The young 
and beautiful woman drooped her head, her cheek 
grew pale, her heart swelled and palpitated in her 
bosom, a dizziness came over her, the sounds rang 
confusedly in her ears. She sat thus a moment 
without breath, without consciousness, succumb- 
ing body and soul to the violence of an emotion 
hitherto unknown to her. When she had over- 
come the agitation which the sight of this man had 
caused her, and recognized him as the same cou- 
rageous friend who had come to her rescue at the 
Red Horse, and of whom for three months she had 
thought constantly, with ever-increasing gratitude, 
she felt frightened, and dared scarcely own to her- 
self that her heart was going away from her own 
resolute control, that she could not defend herself 
from thoughts which it would be wrong for her to 
entertain. Far from yielding to them, she strove 
to banish them, and, pressing her little gold cross 
to her lips, she dissimulated her emotion, calmed 
herself, and looked attentively at the bizarre spec- 
tacle which filled the streets. Bruno Brun, Aunt 
Marianne, and the old servant attentively watched, 
studied, and admired the cavalcade. It was a 
time-honored institution, this modernized heathen 
drama. When the three Fates, following the 
chariot of the heathen divinities, had shown their 
withered faces at the end of the procession, when 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


35 


Atropos, seizing the thread which fell from the dis- 
taff of her sister, severed with her fatal scissors the 
course of human destinies, then the goldsmith rose 
from his seat, satisfied, and ordered his wife to go 
hack to her house. Mise Brun rose trembling, and, 
without permitting herself to throw a look at the 
stranger, retired slowly. Aunt Marianne and 
Madelon hastened to shut the door and bolt it, 
while the crowd dispersed through the dusty, il- 
luminated, and noisy streets. 

It was late before the f^te came to an end, and 
repose succeeded to tumult. Shadows chased away 
the fictitious light of fireworks and torches ; even 
the pale moon sank behind the distant horizon. 
From time to time confused sounds, the refrain of 
a song, and bursts of laughter disturbed the silence 
of the sleeping city ; it was a night of orgy. 
Nieuselle and his friends supped late, and finished 
their joyous night at table. 

All was calm in the Goldsmiths’ street. Not a 
lamp flickered behind the closed blinds ; not a 
voice, not a breath disturbed the universal repose. 
It seemed that Sleep had folded his gray wrap over 
every head, and pressed his leaden finger on every 
eyelid. Only two persons were awake amid this 
universal sleep. The rustic stranger in woolen 
jacket and leathern belt sat motionless on a stone 
bench before the goldsmith’s house, while Mise 
Brun, a prey to sleeplessness, lay quietly with 
wide-open eyes in her great bed, hung with yellow 


36 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


serge curtains, by the side of her husband, who 
slept and snored loudly, dreaming that the weird 
sisters, the pale and withered Fates, were march- 
ing drearily around his room, and as they walked 
spinning and cutting the tangled thread of human 
destiny. 


CHAPTER 11. 

When dawn appeared, all the clocks in the 
four parishes of Aix, and all those in the numer- 
ous convents, began to strike at once. 

Then the chimes rang out slowly to announce 
the Angelus. A moment’s silence, and the bells 
began a new revolt in their stone cages, this time 
to tell the hour of early mass. 

At this early call Mise Brun rose without 
noise, fell on her knees before the crucifix at the 
foot of her bed, and lost herself in her devotions. 

Instead of rising and making her neat toilet 
with her usual diligence, she lingered on her 
knees until the nasal voice of Aunt Marianne re- 
sounded through the house. She rose, and, softly 
going to her window, looked out at the sky. This 
window opened upon an interior court which was 
as melancholy as a cistern without water. No 
stray sunbeam ever visited this gloomy well, 
whose damp stones were covered with a green 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


37 


moss. There were a few old stone pots, where 
Aunt Marianne tried to raise some parsley and 
sorrel and a few culinary herbs. Among these 
herbs blossomed a bunch of gilliflowers which 
Mise Brun had sown, symbols of her stifled self. 
This court gave light to the back shop of Bruno 
Brun’s house. The shadow and dampness had 
covered the walls with black streaks, only broken 
here and there by a parasitic and unhealthy vege- 
tation or mould. The noise of the cheerful street 
did not penetrate here. One heard only the 
clocks of the city, or the giant of the H6tel de 
Ville, who struck the hour with his brass hammer. 
At this early hour a sunbeam gilded the top of 
the neighboring roof, a few sparrows flew across, 
and the perfume of a pot of mignonette, forgot- 
ten on some neighboring window-sill, a gentle 
visitor whom no asceticism or bigotry could keep 
out, floated past to greet the gentle loveliness of 
the prisoner in her respectable dungeon. 

Mise Brun took off her cap, let down her long 
hair, and then opened her window that she might 
bathe her burning head in the cool freshness of 
the morning. Sleeplessness had paled the sweet 
wild-rose tint of her complexion, and given to 
her a look of suffering languor. 

She was sad and agitated, and yet a confused 
dream of happiness, of ineffable *joy, pervaded 
her being. She had nothing with which to fight 
this fixed idea which possessed her soul, this first 


38 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


movement of an ardent and pure heart, ignorant 
of its own rights, its human and heavenly in- 
stincts. Even at the feet of her confessor, with 
all due contrition, and a firm purpose to accuse 
herself, the poor woman would have had nothing 
to tell, no fault that she could name, no sin with 
which to reproach herself. Unused to think of 
herself, incapable of judging of her impressions, 
she knew only that for three months one object 
had filled her thought. For one day only she 
seemed to have lived — the day on which she had 
met the man whom she could never forget, and 
whose unexpected appearance had filled her heart 
with trouble, joy, fear, remorse, and felicity. 
Lost in vague meditation, attentive to the new 
forces which spoke within her, she did not hear 
the snarling of Aunt Marianne, who at the kitchen 
door was already quarreling with the servant. 
She forgot even the presence of Bruno Brun, 
whose loud breathing sounded through the closed 
curtains, like the snort of some marine monster 
asleep under the waves of a frozen sea. 

For any other woman there would have been 
nothing strange in this moment of inaction, this 
reluctance to commence the business of the day ; 
but the habits of Mise Brun were so invariably 
regular, she was trained to so exact a domestic 
submission, that it had never happened before. 
She had never lingered a quarter of an hour at 
her window, forgetting her toilet, and oblivious 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 39 

of tlie fact that on a fUe day early mass is a 
duty. 

The noise of her door, opened quickly, awoke 
her from her sweet reverie ; she turned round sud- 
denly and strove to conceal the confusion in which 
she found herself. Aunt Marianne entered, her 
black silk mantle on her head, and her prayer- 
book in her hand. 

“ Holy Virgin ! what is the matter with you ? 
are you sick ? ” said she, fixing her beetle eyes on 
the young woman. “ I thought you were ready a 
long time ago. It is a bad habit to be late ; the 
morning makes the day.” 

You are right, dear aunt,” said Mis^ Brun. 
“ I will be ready in a moment.” 

“ Why have you not braided your hair ? ” said 
the old woman in a bitter tone, touching with her 
long skinny finger the splendid shower of golden- 
brown tresses which fell on Mise Brun’s shoulders. 
‘‘If you were a little girl we would make you 
walk in the procession as a Magdalen, with your 
hair down dragging on the stones ; but for a 
woman of twenty years there is nothing so ugly 
a^ flying hair ; it is contrary to modesty. Only 
great ladies can go uncovered. The hair-dresser 
comes to them every day, and, when they are 
frizzed and curled and powdered, they do not 
need cap or veil or bonnet. It is well enough for 
them to have long hair, but it is very useless to 
people of our condition, and when your chignon 


40 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


gets larger than a nut you ought to cut it off. 
Yes, take your scissors and cut it off ; you have 
always had too much hair.” 

During this amiable speech the young woman 
hastened to dress her hair out of sight, and cover 
it with a cap. She drew from her wardrobe a 
white dress with broad blue ribbons which • she 
kept for holidays, and threw around her adorable 
figure a mantle which defined its proportions most 
perfectly. 

“ Go, dear aunt, I am ready,” said she, follow- 
ing the footsteps of Aunt Marianne. 

■ Madelon waited at the foot of the staircase, 
her hands crossed under her apron and her rosary 
in her pocket. 

“ There goes the last bell,” said she ; ‘‘ but no 
matter, we shall reach the church in time for the 
first gospel, and the mass will be good.’ ’ 

The three women went out together. There 
was nobody near the house, and the streets which 
led to the church were nearly deserted. Mise 
Brun did not see that somebody followed her from 
afar off. 

There was no crowd in the vast church of St. 
Sauveur. Some devout women and servants were 
kneeling in the nave of Corpus Domini^ at the 
entrance of a sombre chapel, while a priest said 
the first mass. Mise Brun knelt on the stone floor, 
and tried to read her missal with attention and 
devotion ; but rebellious memory disturbed her 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


41 


thoughts, troubled her prayer, and drew her back 
into those ardent reveries which had kept her 
awake all night. Sleeplessness, unaccustomed 
emotions to which she had been a prey since the 
evening before, had wrought profoundly on her 
delicate organization. She was under the influ- 
ence of a new excitement, against which her will 
labored in vain. Her blunted and confused senses 
transmitted only imperfect sensations to her mind ; 
her memory and eyes failed her ; she forgot that 
the priest was at the altar, and that Aunt Mari- 
anne was by her side. While her faculties were 
not entirely suspended as in sleep, she still breathed 
with a sort of dreamy enjoyment the perfume of 
the incense and of the flowers, of which the at- 
mosphere was full ; and the harmonious chants, 
which resounded through the sonorous vaults of 
the old church, reverberated through her heart 
with new solemnity. She neither slept nor woke, 
but was in that condition which partakes of both 
dream and ecstasy. Finally her eyelids closed. 
The book of hours fell from* her hand, and she 
saw only the vision which was painted on her 
brain. It was always the same image, the proud 
and melancholy face of the man of whom she 
knew nothing, not even his name — this man who 
lived in her dreams. Her imagination took her 
back to the place where, not long ago, she had 
walked with him through a lonely road under the 
pines of that forest, around whose boles grew wild 


42 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


flowers, of whicli the delicate odors still greeted 
her senses. 

When the assistant priests recited the last gos- 
pel Mis4 Brun did not perceive that the mass was 
finished, but remained on her knees, her hands 
joined and her head leaning on her breast. No 
one remarked this proof of inattention but Aunt 
Marianne, who had been very much disturbed by 
her niece’s conduct, and had rolled her great green 
eyes with an indignant glance several times at the 
kneeling beauty. Instead of saying her prayers, 
she had observed the attitude, the physiognomy 
of Mise Brun, and had formed many conjectures, 
not one of which was near the truth. When the 
priest left the altar she saw that her missal was 
open at the first page only. Conscientious scru- 
ples filled her mind ; she rose from her knees and 
shook the lovely dreamer rudely, who tremblingly 
returned to the present moment. 

“ What are you thinking of ? ” said Aunt Ma- 
rianne, angrily. “ It is a scandal ; you have made 
me lose my prayers ! I must wait for another 
mass. As for you, I see very well that you are 
not disposed to obey the second commandment of 
the Church. Well ! ask God to forgive you, and 
go liome with Madelon.” 

Mis4 Brun could scarcely believe these last 
words. Three years she had been married, but 
had never been in the streets without Aunt Ma- 
rianne. She had to reiterate her orders, this se- 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


43 


vere old woman, before Mise Brun could believe 
her ears and decide to obey her. After a mo- 
ment’s prayer she rose trembling, and walked out 
followed by Madelon toward the little door. 
Most of the clergy had already retired. Some 
beggars lingered about the doors, seated on 
benches which they were permitted to occupy on 
fete days only ; others, less favored, stood linger- 
ing about the entrance to the cloisters which led 
up to the church. 

Then, as to-day, the cloister of St. Sauveur 
was outlined by a long-deserted walk. It was a 
long time since the canonesses had used it for 
their pious exercise while reading their breviaries. 
The faithful often passed without stopping to ad- 
mire the elegant arcades which sustained the gal- 
lery, and rarely descended into the garden, which 
was filled with most lovely fiowers. Ordinarily a 
poor old woman was seated on the fioor at the 
entrance to the cloister, leaning against an an- 
cient sarcophagus which was made to hold holy 
water, and her pitiful lamentations resounded 
through the church with as much regularity as 
the striking of the clock. 

At the moment when Mise Brun passed the 
holy water, her eyes were downcast, her arms 
modestly crossed upon her breast, her missal in 
her hand ; her light footfall touched the stone 
without sound, and one would have said that a 
shadow walked under the slender columns of the 


44 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


cloister. Madelon followed her mistress, and 
tried to assume the severe and spiteful dignity of 
Aunt Marianne. The young woman was so ab- 
sorbed in her thoughts that she did not see that 
the beggar had raised herself — to hold out her 
hand for charity, as was her custom ; nor did she 
remember to cross herself with the holy water. 
The cripple seized her dress. The incident 
aroused her, and she stopped to remedy both 
omissions. Like all innocent hearts newly awak- 
ened to fatal passions, she was disposed to blame 
herself for having been drawn into this soft 
dream, this forgetfulness of duty — these alter- 
nations of feebleness and resistance. She took a 
resolution there to abandon forever the dangerous 
thoughts which had so profoundly troubled her 
tranquillity and disturbed her conscience. But a 
new incident came to break her firm purpose, and 
to draw her soul far from those calm regions 
which it was trying to enter. Before she had 
reached the gates of the cloister, Madelon pulled 
her by the sleeve, and stopped her. 

“ Look there ! ” said she. “ Isn’t that our 
friend walking on the other side the garden ? 
Isn’t that the nice gentleman who came to our 
rescue on the 1st of April, and to whom we owe 
so much ? ” 

Mise Brun scarcely dared to look up. Her 
knees trembled under her, her breath came and 
went, she felt like fainting, at the very thought of 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


45 


again meeting face to face the man who had 
caused her this agitation — who had awakened so 
profound a memory. 

“ Look ! look ! ” said Madelon ; “ it is that 
good man ! Do you not remember him ? ” 

“ Yes, it is he ! ” said Mise Brun. “ Let us 
go !” 

‘‘ Not yet, please ; he has recognized us, and 
wishes to speak to us,” replied Madelon, whose 
vulgar and curious instincts for a moment over- 
came the habits of ferocious reserve which she 
had been taught by Aunt Marianne. 

“Let us go,” said Mise Brun in a stifled voi' e, 
and making a movement as if she were flying. 

“Wait a minute,” said the obstinate servant ; 
“ truly we should be very ungrateful to pass any- 
body to whom we owe so much, without speaking 
or even turning our heads to bow to him. If 
Mise Marianne were here, it would be very differ- 
ent ; but, as we are alone (by a miracle), I think 
you ought to speak to him. See, here he comes. 
Oh ! the nice gentleman.” 

The stranger walked slowly across the little 
garden, and evidently meant to speak to the two 
women if they should recognize him. Ilis cos- 
tume, which had been that of a humble villager 
the night before, was now that of a man of rank. 
He looked wonderfully well in his coat with full 
skirts, and his embroidered vest. This aristo- 
cratic costume became his noble beauty, which now 


46 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


beamed on poor Mise Brun in its full effulgence. 
In this inevitable peril she recovered her self- 
possession, which is a woman’s armor. She forced 
herself into a calm dignity, made a low bow to 
the stranger, and gave him a gracious smile, in 
silence. But Madelon talked freely, with that re- 
spectful familiarity which provincial servants are 
allowed to take even with those whom they most 
respect. 

‘‘ Ah ! is this you, sir ? How glad we are to 
see you again ! We feared, my mistress and I, 
that we should never see you any more, as you 
said, when you left us at the gate Notre Dame, 
that nothing in the world would tempt you to put 
your foot in the city of Aix.” 

That is true ; I did say so,” said the stran- 
ger, quietly, “but I have changed my mind.” 

“ Have you come to live in the city ? ” asked 
Madelon. 

“ Not yet. I come here at rare intervals, and 
only on great fete days, when there is some pro- 
cession, something in the open air, like last even- 
ing.” 

“ Did you see the procession ? ” said Madelon 
with enthusiasm. “ It was a beautiful sight, wasn’t 
it ? Many people come from far away to see it. 
But certainly you have seen it before ? This is 
not the first time ? ” 

“ No ! I saw it last evening for the first time,” 
said the stranger. 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


47 


“Ah ! then you are not Proven9al?” said the 
servant with an inflection which was a question. 

“ Yes, I am,” said the gentleman, “ hut I have 
been a long time out of the country.” 

During this colloquy Mise Brun had not raised 
her eyes, yet she knew that this man was looking 
at her, with an expression which told more elo- 
quently than words the gratification he felt in this 
unhoped-for encounter, this conversation of a mo- 
ment. The poor woman felt herself grow pale, 
and trembled under the mute influence of those 
eloquent eyes. Confused at her own thoughts, her 
heart was yet full of intense felicity, agitated and 
troubled by this unique experience of her quiet 
life. She remained silent, and with an unmoved 
countenance, as if she feared to betray by a single 
word, by a simple gesture, her intense embarrass- 
ment. The stranger gazed at her with a sort of 
adoration, and replied by monosyllables to Made- 
Ion, who kept plying him with questions. 

During this conversation, in which the two 
principals remained almost silent, the poor old 
beggar woman, who had been leaning on the sar- 
cophagus, came hobbling in with her crutches, and 
noticed the group attentively. She held out her 
hand from force of habit, but, far from uttering 
her usual loud shrill cry “ Charity,” she uttered a 
prayer and looked at the stranger with intense 
curiosity. 

“ What is the matter with the cripple ? ” said 


48 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


Madelon impatiently. “ I thought she was help- 
less and paralytic ; but it appears that, when she 
wills, she can use her old limbs ! ” 

The poor old creature overheard this speech, 
and, remembering that she might be injuring her 
business, hobbled back to her bench. 

“We should give her something more,” said 
Mise Brim softly, feeling in her purse. 

But the stranger intercepted her alms ; and, 
drawing a gold piece from his pocket, he made a 
gesture as if to throw it in the lap of the old 
cripple. 

“ Give it to me, good sir,” said Madelon, sur- 
prised and moved at his generosity. “ Give it to 
me. I will carry it to her, and ask her to not 
forget you in her prayers.” 

She took the gold, and went off to talk with 
the cripple, with the triumphant air of a ben-efac- 
tress. 

The stranger and Mise Brun remained mean- 
time face to face. They did not speak, the young 
woman raised her eyes and dropped them, not 
dreaming that her heightened color, her short 
breath, her silence, betrayed her emotion. The 
man, not less agitated, looked at her with melan- 
choly joy, with a passionate tenderness. At last, 
without saying anything to her, he took the 
prayer-book which she held in her hands, and 
drew it gently away from her. She allowed him 
to take it ; and, while he hid it in his bosom, she 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


49 


said, “ Accept it from me ; I give it to you, my 
benefactor and friend.” 

He had no time to reply before Madelon re- 
turned. 

“ Charitable sir ! ” said she, ‘‘the cripple thanks 
you, and says she shall always pray to God for 
your happiness and long life.” 

“ Come, Madelon,” said Mise Brun, in a low 
voice, “ we must go ! ” 

“Yes! I think so,” said Madelon. “The 
mass is finished, and here comes Mise Marianne. 
Be quiet, she cannot see us, but hurry home ! ” 

“ Sir, I have the honor to wish you good morn- 
ing ! May God preserve you from all unlucky 
accidents.” 

The young woman threw a parting look at the 
stranger, and taking the arm of her servant has- 
tened home. Aunt Marianne stopped to cross 
herself and to give a penny to the cripple. The 
two others thus gained time to reach the house 
before her. The moment they were safely in- 
side, the servant said, mysteriously, “ Do you 
know I have learned a secret ! J ust think, the 
brave gentleman risked his life in coming to the 
fete last evening I ” 

“ His life ! why ? ” said Mise Brun. “ How 
could he risk his life ? ” 

“ Ah ! that is a secret ! The cripple told me. 
See now ! when I took her his gold piece she 
raised her hands to heaven, and called down all 
4 


50 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


sorts of blessings on bis bead ; but sbe said to 
me : ‘ I know bim well, although it is many a 
year since I saw bim. He and I come from the 
same place. His father was the lord of a great 
estate. He bad a grand education. They want- 
ed bim to take orders, but he would not ; be pre- 
ferred to be a soldier. Then be bad a great mis- 
fortune, and quarreled with bis superior officer. 
He raised bis band against bim, and was con- 
demned to death. He escaped, and then no one 
would speak to bim. If be were known, he would 
be a dead man ; but it will not be me who will 
denounce bim ! ’ She made me promise to keep 
bis secret, but I asked to tell you, because be bad 
done you a great service.” 

“What is bis name? Did sbe tell you his 
name ? ” asked Mise Brim, anxiously. 

“ Sbe forgot to tell me his name,” said Made- 
Ion. ‘‘ ]N"o matter, I will see her next Sunday 
after mass. I will remain after you and Mise 
Marianne walk on.” 

“ Do not speak to any one of what you have 
beard, or of what has happened,” said Mise Brun, 
filled with mental terror. 

“ No, no ! Quick ! quick ! go up-stairs. Here 
comes Mise Marianne turning the corner of the 
street. Thank Heaven ! sbe could not see the 
bishop’s mitre three steps off ! ” said Madelon. 

Mise Brun reached her chamber without noise 
and put off her mantle, tied on the apron which 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


51 


she was in the habit of wearing at home, and 
seated herself, trembling and troubled, near the 
window. Bruno Brun still slept and snored, but 
his interrupted respiration indicated that he was 
about to wake up. 

At length, raising his red head from the pil- 
low and rubbing his redder eyes, he said : 

“ "Wife ! is that you ? ” 

“ Yes, it is I,” said Mise Brun. 

“ How long have you been home ? ” 

“ Only a few minutes.” 

“ I do not hear Aunt Marianne.” 

“ She has not come in,” said his wife. 

“ She left you to come home alone ? ” said the 
goldsmith, anxiously. ‘‘ Why was that ? ” 

There was a long silence. Mise Brun sat quiet- 
ly by Ibe window. Bruno Brun went fussily 
through his Sunday toilet with the minute care 
which he carried into all the details of his com- 
monplace existence. His flat face, which was like 
a bruised and faded mask, expressed to-day an 
angry and troubled humor. Two or three times 
he looked defiantly at his wife, and made a gesture 
of dislike and scorn. When he had put on his 
camlet coat, and arranged his collar, and taken his 
hat, which he hung by ribbons from his arm, he 
dreAv from under his pillow an object which, fall- 
ing from his fingers, gave out a metallic sound. 
It was a great rosary, which he had kept near him 
all night. 


52 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


Mis6 Brun trembled at this sound, and, look- 
ing behind her, shuddered when she saw what had 
caused it. She uttered a little cry. 

“Well! what is the matter with you?” said 
Bruno, rubbing his rosary through his fingers. ! 

“ ISTothing ; I said nothing,” said Mise Brun. < 
She could not have expressed in words the fright 
and horror with which this rosary inspired her. 

“ I go to the Fraternity to-day,” said he. “We 
have a long service, and I may not be home for 
dinner.” 

“ Is your service at noon ? ” said his wife. 

“Yes, as usual. We shall have vespers and 
complines before the procession.” 

He went down stairs at these words, and Aunt 
Marianne met him in the hall. 

“ Well ! ” said he, “ you have always been talk- 
ing to me about keeping sight of these young 
women, and yet you have left Rose to come home 
alone ! ” 

“ I had my reasons for that,” said Aunt Mari- 
anne. “ Besides, I do not need any advice from j 
you as to my actions. But do you take care; your 
wife has something on her mind ; I do not know 
what it is, but something has happened to her since 
yesterday.” ’ 

“ If I had not listened to you, I should have 
no such cares ! ” cried the goldsmith, with an ex- 
pression of anger. “ Whose fault was it that I j 
married Rose ? Yours and my father’s ! I am 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


53 


not a fool, if I do look like one. I knew what a 
misfortune it is to have a beautiful wife. I wanted 
to many Mise Magnan’s oldest daughter, a woman 
of thirty, and with a face like everybody else ; 
but you found out that she was not rich enough, 
and you made me marry Rose, because she had 
two thousand crowns for her dowTy. You did not 
remember her youth and her beauty ; money made 
you forget all that. You showed very little sense 
in the arrangement, and I care nothing for her ! ” 

While the goldsmith made these strange re- 
criminations, Aunt Marianne shrugged her shoul- 
ders with an affected air of commiseration. 

“ What do you complain of ? Your wife is too 
handsome ? Then do not let her out of your house. 
Do not blame me, nephew.” 

“ Yes, I do. I blame you for all my misfor- 
tunes.” 

“ Your misfortunes ? Has the beauty of your 
wife caused you any uneasiness ? No, I am a wit- 
ness to the contrary. We two women are always 
with her. Keep her out of sight and under my 
thumb, as I have told you, and you never will have 
any trouble ! ” 

“ I know with all your precautions she is safe 
enough, but it is very tiresome for me. Rose is 
always under your eyes ; she does not go out of 
the door four times a year ; she never comes into 
the shop. Nobody sees her. Now, when I am at 
my work, it would be very cheerful for me if she 


54 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


would come and sit by my side, and sew, and talk j 
to me ; and I need her help in my business. If 
she could tend the shop, for instance — ” 

‘‘ There it is ! there it is ! ” said Aunt Mari- 
anna. “Put her behind the counter, and you . 
would have all the fops in town gluing their eye- 
lids to the window pane. Show these gentlemen > 
something to covet, and then undertake to defend | 
yourself ! ” t 

“ If I had married widow Magnan’s daughter, , 
nobody would have coveted her,” said Bruno 
Brun, with a conviction full of regret. “ I could 
have shown her face without any risk. There 
ought to be two of us in the shop ; my business 
would flourish better. But — no matter ; I must 
go the Fraternity.” 

“ Poor fool ! ” muttered Aunt Marianne, as he 
left the house. 

Mise Brun still sat where her husband had left 
her. At this moment a bright light shone through 
the window, and the serene air of a June morning 
made the gloomy room a little more cheerful. But 
it was not possible to light it up much. The fur- 
niture, which had always been plain and ugly, had | 
served many generations. There were perfect or- 
der and neatness, but time had given a sombre ’ 
hue to the hangings, and tinted the walls with a 
depressing shadow. A great black closet, which 
held the family linen, stood opposite the bed, whose 
curtains had been woven by some departed Mise 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


55 


Brun. Opposite this was a mirror, scarcely larger 
than two hands, buried in an ebony frame. Near 
the window, in the most conspicuous place, was 
carefully deposited one of those niches which they 
make in convents. The figure of the infant Jesus 
in wax lay in its cradle in the midst of the most 
picturesque country which could be represented by 
green paper and feathers of all colors. 

Some straw chairs were ranged along the yel- 
low-washed walls, and mirrored their stump feet 
in the waxed floor, which was as shining and slip- 
pery as glass. 

Poor Mise Brun looked around this gloomy in- 
terior, where she had already spent so many dull, 
lonely, melancholy days, and all at once was over- 
come by a terrible sense of disgust and weariness. 
She began to weep bitterly ; she felt that hers was 
a grief without remedy, without consolation. A 
ray of light had come from the outer world — the 
world of happiness to her ; it had simply lighted 
up her living tomb. And yet she knew that she 
must live and die where the will of God had put 
her ! She was relieved by her tears, but she dared 
not trust herself long to this sort of consolation. 
She knew that she must go down to breakfast with 
a smooth and undisturbed face, and meet Aunt 
Marianne. The poor child dried her eyes, and, 
rising with difficulty, tried to put her room in 
order. 

As she went mechanically through her duties 


56 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


she approached the bed, and perceived the rosary, ^ 
which Bruno Brun had forgotten. She recoiled ^ 
with fright ; then overcoming this impression, she j 
dragged herself toward the fatal relic, and looked ] 
at it with mingled curiosity and fear. There was 
nothing strange or frightful in this pious emblem 
itself. It was simply a rosary for fifteen weeks, 
ornamented with medals of brass and death’s heads 
in miniature, like those which one sees in the col- j 
lectipn of holy images and relics suspended at the j 
doors of churches. After a moment’s hesitation, ^ 
Mise Brun took it up with a trembling hand and 
a gesture of repugnance, and threw it into a drawer, 
which she shut quickly. 

At this moment she heard Aunt Marianne’s 
querulous voice. She was scolding Madelon, as 
was her custom, and Madelon, quite used to it, was 
answering in tones not too respectful. ^ 

“You are mistress, and I am servant, I know 
that very well, Mise Marianne,” said Madelon ; 

“ but that shall not hinder my telling you what I 
think. You should not take other people’s sins so 1 
much to heart, for you have not to do penance for 1 
them in this world or the next. Why are you 
so angry because Mise Brun was inattentive in 
church ? I remember often when you were young 
you were looking about you during mass, and not 
reading your prayer-book ; and your poor dear 
dead mother did not make much fuss about it. 
That worthy woman did not report you to your 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


57 


confessor. Now, I am sure you have already been 
after Father Theotiste.” 

“ Certainly,” said Aunt Marianne, in a bitter 
tone. ‘‘I went after his reverence into the sac- 
risty, and asked him to breakfast. We have need 
of his advice here.” 

Madelon hastened rather sulkily to arrange the' 
table in the back shop, with the real silver spoons 
and all the wealth of the sideboard. The trades- 
people of this period allowed themselves little 
luxury, and yet there were evidences of a sort of 
modest prosperity, which results infallibly from 
order and industry in domestic occupations. Six 
straw chairs, a sideboard and table of black wal- 
nut, formed all the furniture of the back shop, 
which served as parlor to the goldsmith’s family. 
The chimney-piece, which had for ornament, in 
place of a mirror, simply a green paper-hanging, 
was furnished with a dozen drinking-glasses. But 
the linen which Madelon spread on the table was 
of snowy whiteness, and all the utensils shone with 
cleanliness. The arrangements and the food be- 
trayed a certain elegance not to be expected in so 
plain a house. The fruit was worthy the table of 
a king — green and purple figs, blond and freckled 
apricots, half hidden in vine-leaves, whose delicate 
tendrils fell upon the table-cloth, while a graceful 
willow basket held the golden cakes which were 
to follow the bread and butter. 

A light knock at the door and the noise of 


58 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


sandals in ttie comdor announced the arrival of 
the expected guest. 

“ Reverend father, I salute you humbly,” said 
Aunt Marianne, crossing herself devoutly, and 
then pushing a chair toward her visitor. 

“ God he with you, my dear sister,” replied the 
good monk with a tone of placid gaiety. Then, 
looking at the well-filled table, he added, “ You 
intend to make me commit the sin of gluttony. 
Your coffee is so fragrant that I feel too much 
pleasurable anticipation. Our rules forbid us all 
sensuality ; we are ordered even to abstain from 
necessary food. When our institution was in its 
first sanctity, the brothers of St. Francis broke 
their fast only at mid-day, with a soup of roots 
and herbs, without oil or salt.” 

“ What is good for the health of the body can- 
not impair the peace of the soul,” said Aunt Mari- 
anne sententiously. “ Besides, my father, you 
cannot keep up a rigorous fast and at the same 
time support the fatigues of your ministry.” 

Ah ! you reassure my conscience,” said the 
good monk, with simplicity. “ I should not have 
strength to exhort the poor sinners who are con- 
demned to death, and stand by them to the end, 
if my body were weakened by abstinence and my 
mind beaten down by macerations of an enfeebled 
frame ! Practices of devotion are of no merit 
before God if they are not followed by good 
works.” 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


59 


And so he ate Aunt Marianne’s good breakfast 
thankfully and cheerfully. These last words had 
revealed the sentiment which directed the whole 
life of the old monk. He was one of those sim- 
ple, sublime souls who accomplish instinctively the 
most remarkable and rare deeds of courage and 
devotion. With him charity meant self-abnega- 
tion. When he made his vows he gave all his 
patrimony to the poor ; he owned nothing, not 
even the money for his benefactions. He had 
been known in the depths of winter to give away 
the shoes from his feet, and to come into the con- 
vent barefooted. 

Father Theotiste had always been Mise Brun’s 
confessor, and from this fact had full access to the 
goldsmith’s house. His was the only strange face 
ever seen there. He was always well received, 
and brought pleasure and sunshine to the gloomy 
interior. Even Aunt Marianne softened her face 
and voice before him ; she liked to impress him 
favorably. 

Mise Brun, hearing his voice, hastened down. 
The good father had already seated himself at 
table, and stopped with a glance the angry and 
severe remonstrance with which Aunt Marianne 
was about to greet Mise Brun for her tardi- 
ness. 

God bless you, dear child ! ” said he, smiling- 
ly. “ Come and sit by me, and pour out my cof- 
fee. I am enjoying this good breakfast which 


60 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


God has sent to me, for since yesterday I have not 
had time to eat anything ! ” 

“ Holy Virgin ! not eaten since yesterday 
morning ! ” said Aunt Marianne ; ‘‘ and, if I had 
not met you and begged of your reverence to take 
a cup of colfee, you would have had no break- 
fast ? ” 

“ I should have dined at mid-day on the soup 
at the convent refectory,” said Father Theotiste ; 
“ that would not have been long to wait. When 
bread is dear, the poor make longer fasts than 
that — involuntary fasts. During long, hard win- 
ters I have known families who had nothing for 
days but a handful of beans.” 

“ Thank God, who has given us the food we 
need,” said Mise Brim, raising her lovely blue 
eyes, which were full of tears. 

After breakfast Mise Marianne obeyed a sign 
from Father Theotiste, who remained alone with 
the young woman. 

“ Daughter,” said he, in a voice whose indul- 
gent sweetness softened the words of reproach, 
“ I have prayed to God for you during mass, be- 
cause I saw that you were forgetting to address 
yourself to him. This morning you sinned by 
omission, my child.” 

“ That is true, my father,” said she, humbly ; 
“ but I repent of my sin, and I will try not to err 
again.” 

“That is well, dear daughter. After good 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


61 


actions, good resolutions are the things our Lord 
loves best. Say to your Aunt Marianne that you 
are sorry for having disturbed her devotions, and 
that hereafter you will try to set a good example. 
You wish to say so to her, do you not ? ” 

I do not know, father,” said Mise Brun ; 
“ but I will try to wish to say to Aunt Marianne 
what you tell me to say.” 

The old monk held down his shaven head, and 
reflected a moment. Then he gave Mise Brim a 
long, searching glance. 

“ Dear daughter,” said he, “ when you came 
to me to confess and gain absolution at Easter, 
you told me your sins, but not your griefs. Are 
you not happy here in your married home ? ” 

Mise Brun did not answer him, but the heavy 
tears fell like a shower over her beautiful face. 

“ My dear child, tell me your thoughts, your 
grief,” said the monk, earnestly. ‘‘ In whom 
should you confide, who should be your friend, 
but me, your spiritual father, your director, your 
confessor ? Tell me everything which weighs on 
your heart ; tell me what makes you unhappy. 
Is it the severe temper of your aunt ? ” 

“ No, father ; I am used to that,” said Mise 
Brun, with touching honesty. 

Father Theotiste thought a moment ; then, as 
if following the thread of his thoughts, he said : 

Your husband is a good man, and I am sure has 
never failed in his tenderness for you. I know 


62 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


that his character is melancholy and taciturn, hut 
with your pleasant temper, your sweetness, you 
can lift all that cloud. Are you submissive to 
him ? Have you a constant good-will toward him ? 
Do you show him always that you desire his ap- 
probation above all things, and that his happiness 
is your only care ? Do you love him ? It is your 
first duty.” 

‘‘ Oh, my father ! ” said Mise Brim, hiding her 
face in her hands with a gesture of repulsion and 
shuddering disgust, which unveiled her thoughts 
to Father Th4otiste better than the most sincere 
avowal. 

“ My daughter ! ” said the monk, with a voice 
full of fear and distress, “ tell me, in the name of 
your tranquillity, your happiness, your soul’s 
health, your eternal salvation. Let me know the 
state of your heart. What are your feelings tow- 
ard your husband ? ” 

“ When I see him, I am afraid,” said Mise 
Brun. 

“ Oh ! you are a silly child,” said the monk, 
very much relieved. “How can a peaceable, 
easy-going man like Bruno Brun inspire you with 
fear ? Has he ever spoken unkindly to you ? Has 
he treated you with severity or cruelty ? ” 

“No, father, not that,” replied the young 
woman, hastily. 

“Very well. What, then, are you afraid of? 
Because he is rather red-haired, and you remem- 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


63 


ber the old proverb, ‘ Beware of a white dog, a 
black cat, and a red man ? ’ ” said the monk, try- 
ing a little pleasantry. 

“ No, not that,” murmured Mise Brun. 

“ Then tell me what it is,” said Father Theo- 
tiste, with affectionate insistance. “ I shall not 
leave you until you have told me all your trou- 
ble.” 

“ My father, I hesitate to tell you the truth, 
lest you think me childish, perhaps mad ! Some- 
times I fear it myself. I seem to have some men- 
tal malady.” 

‘‘ That is possible ; but we will cure it, my 
child. Tell me what it is.” 

“ Oh, father ! how can I express all my an- 
guish, my trouble ! During the day I am tran- 
quil, I can work, and I am happy enough ; but 
when night comes, and by the light of his little 
lamp I see him looking more spectral than ever — 
then — ” 

She pressed her handkerchief to her lips, un- 
able to go on. 

“ And then — ^what ? ” said the monk. 

‘‘ I seem to see a phantom dressed like a Blue 
Penitent, a scaffold, the executioner, and a head- 
less corpse in a wooden coffin. I am afraid ! I am 
afraid ! ” said the poor creature, breaking down 
and weeping aloud. 

Father Theotiste saw at a glance the reasons 
for this hysterical terror, but he also perceived 


64 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


that its effects were real and profound. Far from 
blaming her weakness with severity, he compas- 
sionated her, and spoke gently. 

“You have pictured your husband to yourself 
in his dress as a Blue Penitent, and you see his 
mask, and robe, and great rosary at his side,” 
said the priest. 

“ Yes,” said Mise Brun. “ To-day he forgot 
his rosary, and I looked at it ; it was stained with 
drops of blood ! ” 

“ Oh ! that is pure imagination, dear child,” 
said Father Theotiste. “Look again at it and 
undeceive yourself. Now reason a little. You 
are afraid of your husband because his order 
compels him to do a good work ; because, after 
having laid out these poor wretches, he helps to 
give them Christian burial, and then comes to 
pray with me for the repose of their souls ! How 
much more should you fear me then ! I ride 
with them to the scaffold ; I exhort them by the 
way ; I hear their last confession ; I pray for 
them to the end ! I receive in my arms their 
bloody, disfigured bodies ! ” 

“ I know it, dear father,” said Mise Brun. “ I 
know that you never desert these unhappy crea- 
tures, but I am not afraid of you. You — you are 
in fact all my consolation ! ” 

“ See, then, dear child, this is a weakness ; try 
to cure yourself. When you feel this infirmity 
of the mind, pray silently to God ! He will help 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


65 


you. And I recommend to you to read every 
evening some pious lecture, to which you will 
give all your attention. And above all, I order 
you to carefully abstain from showing your hus- 
band any sign of this terror with which he in- 
spii*es you. There are cases where a manifesta- 
tion of the truth becomes a mortal sin ! ” 

Mise Brun bowed her head in sign of humble 
submission. 

“Were these, then, the only thoughts which 
troubled you this morning ? ” said Father Theo- 
tiste ; “ were these the only visions which dis- 
tracted your attention during mass this morn- 
ing ? ” 

Mise Brun’s pale face became of a vivid rose 
tint at this question ; she hesitated and looked 
down. 

“ No, my father,” said she with honesty, after 
a pause. 

The monk looked up with an air of surprise. 

“ You had another subject of inquietude and 
distraction ? ” 

“ Ah ! my father,” said she, in a trembling 
voice, “ I have another confession to make to 
you.” 

“Why not relieve your heart at once, my 
child ? ” he asked, more and more astonished. 
“ You will come to me to-morrow to confess and 
to demand absolution, but to-day why not confide 
in me as your friend and spiritual father ? You 
6 


66 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


look down and are silent. Oh, my child ! you 
have done something wrong ? you are not inno- 
cently sad ? ” 

Mise Brun did not reply, but looked down 
confused and despairing. 

Father Theotiste waited a moment, confound- 
ed with this tacit avowal. Not only was he un- 
prepared for any fault in this innocent soul, which 
he knew so well, but he thought it impossible 
that she should be led into temptation, for he 
knew how jealously she was watched. 

“My daughter,” said he at length, with an 
accent full of that unction and pity, that profound 
sympathy which never failed in his case to reach 
the most hardened criminal. “ My daughter, I 
am here not only to relieve your conscience, but 
to console and fortify your soul ? Of what are 
you guilty ? ” 

She joined her two hands and knelt before 
him. “ My father ! I have grievously sinned in 
my thoughts.” 

“ In thought only ? ” murmured the monk, 
very much relieved. “ Go on, my child.” 

Then Mise Brun told him, in a voice broken 
and stifled with tears, of her interview with the 
stranger ; the impression which this man had 
made on her heart ; how she had seen him the 
evening before ; her anguish during the night, 
and the unexpected interview she had had with 
him in the cloister. 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


67 


Exalted by these memories, moved by this 
I analysis of her own impressions, she found, in try- 
I ing to paint the picture of her soul, accents and 
words which sounded strange in this austere house, 

! where the word love had never been pronounced. 

I Father Theotiste listened with consternation and 
stupefaction. This worthy man, accustomed to 
sound the consciences of the most abandoned 
wretches, to receive the most dreadful confessions 
of crime, had retained a singular innocence, an 
ingenuous soul. Certain subjects passed his com- 
prehension. He knew nothing of these meta- 
[ physics of passion which this young woman un- 
j veiled before him, and he found himself very 
I much embarrassed to reply. 

j He had been confessor to many devout wom- 
I en, but none had revealed the secret abysses which 
I women hide in their heart ; and for the first time 
I in his life he looked down into the unknown 
i depths which no human experience has entirely 
I explored. When his young penitent had finished 
i her avowal, he did not try to reason with her on 
the fault which she had committed, and whose 
extent he could not fathom ; he merely said : 

“ God be praised, dear child ! this is no 
i great matter which you have told me. Some bad 
dreams troubling the mind, that is all. Mean- 
I while, do not indulge in them ; work, and trust 
in God that he will distract your mind from them. 
When you go out of the house, keep close to your 


68 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


Aunt Marianne. If by any mischance you meet 
this man, pass him without recognition, and pray 
inwardly to your patron-saint and to your guard- 
ian angel that they will watch over you in your 
hour of temptation and peril.” And, blessing her, 
he went away. ; 

These words partly calmed the young girl ; | 
they appeased her conscientious scruples. She \ 
was relieved of her bitter self-abasement ; the ^ 
sadness which had succeeded to her violent agita- 
tion passed away. As a strange consequence of j 
her new impressions, this troubled day seemed 
however to her less long than her ordinary calm 
and uneventful ones. 

The first commandment of the church was 
rigorously observed in the house of Bruno Brun, 
and nothing would have been more improper than 
to have worked with the hands on Sundays or 
fete days. During these hours of enforced idle- 
ness Mise Brun quietly endured her languor and 
fatigue. Seated in her accustomed place at the 
window, she leaned back in her chair, her arms 
crossed and her eyes turned toward the little court, i 
On one side she saw in perspective a high gloomy I 
wall, which intercepted air and light ; and, if she j 
looked around the room, she met the angular pro- ' 
file of Aunt Marianne, who, seated in an arm-chair | 
before another window, with a book open on her 
knees, read aloud with nasal monotone the prayers 
which she had known by heart for forty years. 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


69 


After vespers the goldsmith came in to break 
up this t^te-d-ttte ; and, to amuse himself until 
supper, he drew from a drawer in the sideboard a 
dirty pack of cards, with which he played at 
piquet with Aunt Mariai>ne. 

For three years his young wife had assisted at 
this melancholy ceremony, by looking on. She 
followed the monotonous combinations of the 
game with indescribable weariness, but dutifully 
marked the points for her husband. This even- 
ing, seated near the two players, she felt over- 
come with the suppressed tears which she could 
hardly keep back ; but by a strong effort she re- 
tained her calmness, and showed nothing of that 
which was working within. 

Later in the evening she recalled the advice 
of Father Theotiste ; and, wishing to obey him 
scrupulously, she asked Aunt Marianne for a 
book. The old woman chose one out of the five 
or six which composed her library, and gave her 
a little volume which she had evidently not read, 
for the cover looked new and fresh. 

As was her custom, Mise Brun went up-stairs 
early with her husband. When he had shut the 
door of his room, he silently undressed, put the 
lamp on the altar, and knelt to say his prayers. 
In his long night-robe, he looked more spectral 
than ever. There was really something sinister 
in his curious visage, seen thus by the wan light 
of the lamp. His protuberant eyes had a singular 


70 


TUE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


fixity ; the inanimate paleness of his face, its 
corpse-like rigidity, made Bruno Brun frightful. 
His wife looked at him critically. She was no 
longer afraid of him ; that had all gone. She 
simply saw his flat profile, his rather ridiculous 
arrangement of hair. The superstitious horror 
with which he had at one time haunted her gave 
way before the new and the more violent and pro- 
found impressions of her own nature, which she 
had been fighting. The deeper trouble of the 
heart had chased away the phantoms of the imagi- 
nation. 

After her husband had retired, Mise Brun 
seated herself near the lamp and opened the vol- 
ume which Mise Marianne had given her. It was 
the homily on the fiftieth Psalm and the collec- 
tion of prayers composed by Father Calabre. 
Divine love, in this book, is made to use the 
formula of human love. It is the aspiration of a 
tender and exalted soul toward that ideal which 
she seeks without ceasing. It is the ardent con- 
tinual prayer of the soul which she addresses to 
the object of all her hopes and all her vows. 

These words moved Mise Brun to the depths 
of her heart. She found in the mystic language 
of the pious Oratorian an expression of her own 
undeveloped thought. Each word lighted up her 
mind like a lightning flash ; each page she read 
brought a ' flood of new ideas and emotions, and 
developed all at once the highest and most dan- 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


71 


gerous faculties of her hitherto sleeping imagina- 
tion. Mise Brun was one of these beings whom 
Nature creates in her days of prodigality, and on 
whom she pours out her most rare and tempting 
gifts — a sincere and tender heart, a powerful 
imagination, an instinct for noble things, an apti- 
tude for the highest intellectual enjoyment, a 
strong emotional nature. With such an organ- 
ization, placed in conditions favorable for its de- 
velopment, she would have surmounted at a bound 
the ordinary and conventional rules of life ; would 
have led a good, but an original life ; would per- 
haps have met with a stormy destiny, but would 
have enjoyed, would have experienced, would 
have lived ! 

Fate, however, had guarded Mis6 Brun against 
herself, in placing her in the obscure and narrow 
position of a tradesman’s wife in a small city. A 
very humble education had compressed her intel- 
ligence and crowded down her instincts. Air and 
sun had been denied to this splendid flower ; she 
had grown up in the shade, her colors suppressed, 
her perfume undeveloped. The shadow had pre- 
served to her perhaps a more delicate bloom ; she 
had not been exposed to the storms of a tropical 
atmosphere. There was in this hidden soul a 
treasure, slowly amassed, of tenderness, of devo- 
tion, of love, which no one suspected. She was in 
the cradle, poor child, when her father had died, 
and not much older when her mother followed 


72 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


him, leaving this little daughter to the care of 
Bruno Brun’s father, who became her guardian, 
and finally her father-in-law. Such was Mis6 
Brun’s short and hitherto uneventful story. 

The goldsmith had been a long time asleep, 
and the midnight hour had sounded from the old 
clock, when Mise Brun shut the book, in which 
she had found a meaning which Father Calabre 
did not suspect himself of having hidden there. 
She went to bed thoughtfully and slowly, preoc- 
cupied with memories which she strove in vain to 
renounce ; and day was ready to break when sleep 
came, at length, to obliterate her reveries and her 
vague meditations. 


CHAPTER III. 

The following Sunday, when going out of 
church after the first mass, Mise Brun saw, with a 
pleasure which she endeavored in vain to stifle, that 
Madelon had left them and was going through the 
cloister. She knew well that her intention was to 
ask the stranger’s name from the cripple, that her 
curiosity had overcome her fear of Aunt Mari- 
anne’s watchfulness. 

Mise Brun walked slowly — so slowly that Mise 
Marianne noticed it, and looked at her suspicious- 
ly. The older woman was not fitted by nature 
for the role of Argus. Far from having the him- 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


73 


dred eyes of the guardian of the blonde lo, she had 
not even the usual two good ones belonging to the 
J ordinary human creature ; hut her suspicious na- 
ture gave her a sort of second sight, more piercing 
I and more cruel than that of the lynx or the eagle ; 

^ she penetrated with frightful sharpness into the 
hidden folds of human thought. She recognized 
by these slight indications and almost impercepti- 
ble symptoms that Mise Brun was not in her usual 
frame of mind, and that there was something go- 
ing on which she did not understand. She stopped 
abruptly in the middle of the road and put her 
hand on her niece’s arm, as if to rest herself ; 
but it was really to test the condition of Mise 
Brun. 

“What is the matter with you?” said she, 
looking her in the face. “You breathe quickly ; 
you are as white as a sheet ; and I do believe, God 
forgive me ! that your heart beats. And now you 
are as red as fire. What is the matter ? ” 

Poor Mise Brun, blushing still more, murmured 
a few feeble words of excuse. 

“Very well,” said the old woman, pursing her 
thin lips maliciously — “ Very well. I can see 
things, in spite of my near-sighted eyes, and I 
will tell you what I think. Going out does not 
agree with you ; your head is turned in the street. 
You shall stay at home ; you will not put your 
foot outside the door for six months, let me tell 
you that.” 


74 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


Mise Brun did not answer, but walked on in 
silence. 

Meantime Mise Marianne perceived that Mad- 
elon was lingering behind. This displeased her ; 
she began to grumble about it, and hurried her 
niece along. Presently Madelon caught up with 
them. 

“ Good Mise Marianne,” said she, “ don’t blame 
me ! hear me first, please ? ” 

“ I am in no mood to listen to your excuses,” 
said Aunt Marianne, looking sourly at her servant. 

“Just listen to my news, and you will hear 
that I had a reason for being more than five min- 
utes late. What do you think has happened ! I 
went through the little door to give two far- 
things to the cripple and to cross myself with the 
holy water. She was not there, and I asked the 
first comer what had taken her away. ‘ Have you 
not heard ? the whole city is talking about it — a 
shocking thing ! Why, on the evening after the 
FUe-DieUy when the sexton came to shut the 
church, he found the poor cripple lying dead at 
the entrance to the cloister.’ ” 

“ Dead ! how ! ” exclaimed Mise Brun. 

“Stabbed, killed,” said Madelon. “No one 
had heard any noise ; she must have been struck 
by a sure hand. The sexton remembered that he 
had seen two men lingering around the cloister. 
They had waited until every one left the church, 
probably, to murder her.” 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


75 


“ But why ? ” said Mis6 Marianne. “ It is very 
extraordinary. Why should robbers or murderers 
have anything to gain by this ? She had nothing 
under her rags ! ” 

“ I do not know that,” said Madelon, looking 
at her young mistress. ‘‘ People gave her a great 
deal ; she had some gold pieces in her big pockets 
perhaps. These men might have watched her, and 
have seen her receive her money. I think she was 
murdered for her gold.” 

‘‘ Nonsense ! ” said Mise Marianne. “ Have 
the murderers been arrested ? ” 

“ No ; that is the worst of it. Everybody is 
frightened to death. They think she was killed 
by some of the band of Gaspard de Besse.” 

Mis4 Brun heard these details with mute dis- 
tress. She felt a sort of remorse at the thought 
that the fatal generosity of the stranger had caused 
the assassination of the poor old cripple — a re-, 
morse which was increased by Madelon’s remark 
later when they were alone. 

“The robbers did kill the cripple for her 
money,” she exclaimed, “for in searching her 
pockets they found only coppers, and we know 
that she had a gold louis.” 

“ That proves nothing,” said Mis4 Brun. “ Un- 
doubtedly she had hidden that away somewhere.” 

“No, I am certain that she had it about her.' 
She had had a mania all her life to possess a piece 
of gold ; she thought it would bring her luck. 


76 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


When I gave her the stranger’s gift she looked at 
it with hungry eyes, kissed it, and put it in her 
pocket, saying, ‘ Be there forever ! stay there, day 
and night.’ Very likely she showed it to others ; 
perhaps these assassins were in the church and saw 
her receive it. If I should tell, perhaps they 
could find the robbers.” 

‘‘ No, no ! say nothing,” said Mise Brun. “We 
cannot help the ends of justice ; keep quiet.” 

“Well ! I have said nothing, except to you,” 
said Madelon ; “ but I have learned something or 
remembered something.” 

Madelon pronounced these words with a mys- 
terious and important voice. 

“ What have you learned ? ” said Mise Brun. 

“ The name of the mysterious stranger ! ” 

“ How could you learn that, if the poor cripple 
was dead ? ” said Mise Brun. 

“ I put two and two together,” said Madelon. 
“ I have been thinking of it all the week; ” and she 
assumed an air of triumphant penetration. “ The 
cripple said that he was the son of the lord of the 
manor where she was born. Now, that grand es- 
tate she named — it was Galti^res.” 

“ What is his name, then ? ” said Mise Brun, 
with quiet emotion. 

“ I have been to that place,” said Madelon, who 
some thirty years before this had traveled with 
the elder Brun and his wife as they went to the 
fairs to sell their jewelry, and had thus acquired 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


77 


some local geography. “Galti^res was a very 
grand estate indeed, I remember,” said she. “ It 
was near the banks of the Var — upon the borders 
of Nice.” 

“ Monsieur de Galti^res ! ” said Mise Brun, 
pronouncing the name with infinite tenderness and 
joy, as women speak the name of the man they 
love, when it falls from the lips and reverberates 
from the heart for the first time ; but she repented 
immediately, imposed silence on Madelon by point- 
ing to the silhouette which Aunt Marianne’s figure 
made against the wall just outside the window, 
and, to escape the temptation of pleasant thoughts, 
she went immediately outside to help her aunt 
water and weed her garden. 

From this time Mise Brun led two different 
lives — one monotonous, dull, mechanical, the other 
troubled, tearful, agitated, joyful, and sad. The 
exterior world had no interest for her ; she was 
entirely absorbed with her interior life, of which 
no one about her saw the slightest sign. She ful- 
filled admirably all her round of domestic duties. 
She submitted with perfect and unalterable pa- 
tience to the malicious persecution of Aunt Mari- 
anne. Early in the morning she took her distaff, 
and, seating herself before the 'window, spun the 
thread which would afterward be woven into fine 
linen for the house — the housekeeper’s treasure, 
laboriously amassed. She had already contributed 
more than her share to the well-filled wardrobes. 


78 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


Above her, tbe opaque window glass permitted but 
a feeble ray to fall on her gentle head ; the light 
was almost lost before it reached the back shop, 
which was always dark. The young woman, 
seated in a high chair, her feet on a straw bench, 
turned her wheel from morning till night, with 
mechanical activity. Seated thus, her distaff full 
of white flax, her eyes bent on the thread which 
fled through her transparent fingers, she looked 
like the holy shepherdess, the blonde spinner, pa- 
troness of Paris. Crouched on a low chair, her 
knitting in her hand, Mis^ Marianne offered a con- 
trast to this soft and exquisite figure. At long 
intervals these two women exchanged a common- 
place remark; they had between them so little 
community of ideas, that it was almost impossible 
to maintain any conversation, which finally re- 
solved itself into a remark from Mise Marianne 
about the weather, or the excellence of Madelon’s 
vegetable soup. The goldsmith scarcely ever 
troubled them with his presence ; he passed the 
day at his work, or watching for customers, who 
did not come in crowds. 

Mis6 Brun had become reconciled to the ap- 
pearance of her husband ; or perhaps it would be 
better to say, she no longer noticed him. He had 
one of these phlegmatic organizations which fit 
well enough into the operations of a sad and pre- 
occupied mind. He was naturally melancholy and 
taciturn, and talked only of things which excited 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


79 


a morbid imagination. The deeds of the brother- 
hood of the Blue Penitents, the scenes on the 
scaffold, the weird and sombre picture of the 
burial of a beheaded man — these were the only 
subjects on which he conversed. He was neither 
cruel nor wicked ; on the contrary, he had a pious 
and charitable intention, no doubt. It was sim- 
ply that some such powerful stimulant was neces- 
sary, so to speak, to jog the slow machinery of 
his mind. His young wife, who had listened for 
three years with sickening horror to these stories, 
no longer heard them. She listened apparently ; 
the sound reached her, but not the sense. 

In the evening after supper, while the gold- 
smith chatted with his aunt of these enlivening 
subjects, poor Mise Brun would then open the 
window and look up at the heavens. Contrasting 
the starry immensity, the eternal splendors, with 
her own dark imprisonment, she dreamed and 
wept. Sometimes, allowing herself a moment of 
happiness, she seated herself by the open window, 
and, leaning her head on her slender hand, in- 
haled the fragrance of a few flowers which she 
had gathered and tastefully arranged in an earthen 
bowl. She touched with her pure fresh lips the 
velvet of the roses, the pale jasmines, and returned 
the perfume of her breath for theirs. Long hours 
of regret and repentance followed these moments 
of self-indulgence, and the poor thing gave way 
to an internal dejection more fatal than violent 


80 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


grief. At other times she would find consolation 
in her religious thoughts. She prayed to God for 
a contrite and obedient heart, and formed resolu- 
tions which she had no strength to keep. 

Father Theotiste came often to see her. When 
he found himself alone with Mis6 Brun, he asked 
her nothing about her internal life ; he only de- 
manded an account of her daily actions. When 
she told him that all her time was spent in work- 
ing, and praying to God, and that she never went 
out of the house, he went away satisfied. 

“ That is right ; keep to this life, my daugh- 
ter,” said the good priest ; ‘‘ and remember that 
God often keeps us from transgression by pre- 
venting the opportunity.” 

‘‘ God preserve me from the involuntary sin of 
evil thoughts,” said Mise Brun humbly. 

Then Father Theotiste would shake his head 
and smile indulgently, with all the simplicity of a 
soul which had never known a culpable wish or 
felt the secret torture of a forbidden passion. 

“ My daughter,” said he, “ we do not sin 
against God, but against ourselves, when we give 
way to exaggerated scruples, and toiment our- 
selves with imaginary faults.” 

But poor Mise Brun, frightened at the growth 
of the rebellious feelings which filled her heart, 
begged of Father Theotiste to allow her to con- 
fess. 

“ Father,” said she, shedding tears of shame 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


81 


and grief, “ God has abandoned me. I have lost 
my sense of right and wrong. I can no longer 
, resist ! I no longer wish to conquer my evil 
thoughts. My soul is full of disgust for all the 
things which I ought to love and to respect. I 
can no longer pray, and my mind wanders to evil 
, thoughts which fill me with horror ! ’’ 

“ That is to say, you yield to these reveries 
which haunt you. Tell me, dear child, what is 
this secret longing which troubles you ? ” 

“ Oh ! my father,” said she in a low voice, 
hiding her head in her hands, “ one terrible temp- 
tation follows me day and night. I must see this 
man, I must follow him ! ” 

Father Theotiste rose to his full height ; he 
raised his majestic head and stretched out his 
powerful arms, as if he would defend this poor 
soul from the advances of the Evil One. Misc 
Brun thought, as she looked at him, of the great 
picture, in the church, of St. Mark liberating the 
slave. A grand defiance, a noble command, took 
the place of humility and meekness ; his habitual 
manner left him ; he seemed a mighty archangel, 
whose wings were stretched over this feeble child, 
covering her with the magnificent protection of 
Heaven. 

“ Ho ! my child,” said he in a voice of unu- 
sual volume, as if he were commanding an army. 
With energy, and piety, and authority he spoke ; 
his way was clear before him now. “ Ho ! my 
6 


82 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


child, you shall not follow him ! You shall not 
fall into the abyss of sin and shame. You do not 
wish, in order to gratify an idle passion, to re- 
nounce the name, the noble title of faithful wife, 
which every woman of your family has worn be- 
fore you ? hTo one has failed. Think of your 
own mother, who keeps a place at her side in 
heaven for you, and who watches your course on 
earth — think of her, and you will be saved ! My 
child, you shall not sin ! ” 

These words lifted Mise Brun out of herself. 
The noble aspect of Father Theotiste struck to 
her soul with profoundest impression. She need- 
ed this strong hand. She grew tranquil, and felt 
that to suffer or to die was nothing, so that she 
kept her good name in this world and her peace 
and salvation in the next. Her heart grew calm. 
She fell into a melancholy languor, a resigned 
tranquillity, which might have lasted to the end 
of her days had not new incidents come to trouble 
her repose, and break up the monotony of her 
daily life, in which the native activity of her 
character, the ardor of her imagination, and the 
delicate sensibility of her soul were being slowly 
but surely extinguished. 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


83 


CHAPTER IV. 

Two montlis had elapsed since this conversa- 
tion with Father Theotiste. It was the end of 
September, and the dull season in Aix, for the 
Parliament and the University were both taking 
their vacation. 

The gentlemen of the long robe had gone 
away ; the rich citizens were at their country 
places ; and the students were trying to forget in 
the fields, in the mountains, on the water, the en- 
forced slavery of their college work. The city of 
Aix was deserted, and the people awaited with 
patience the return of the courts, the nobles, the 
rich citizens, and even believed that they could 
welcome back the students, both studious and tur- 
bulent, who made the streets lively. In fact, the 
opening of Parliament was ardently desired by 
the shopkeepers and working people, who were 
obliged to remain almost idle during the vacation. 

It was in this dull season that old Brun, who, 
since his son’s marriage, had not been in the habit 
of often visiting the city, came unexpectedly into 
the shop one fine morning. 

He was a dry and sententious old fellow, very 
much impressed with the good name which he had 
won for himself by sixty years of an exemplary 
life, and by his irreproachable honesty. Intelli- 
gent, hard-working, and narrow-minded, old Brun 


84 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


was of tlie style of man who could surmount busi- 
ness difficulties, and make money out of a stone. 
He had brought up a numerous family, of which 
Bruno Brun was the sole survivor ; and, having 
made enough to live on comfortably, had retired, 
leaving his son a prosperous business in the pro- 
fession of jeweler, which the Bruns had made 
their own for several generations. ^ 

Well, Bruno,” said the old man, after kiss- 
ing his sister and daughter-in-law, shaking hands 
with his son, and acknowledging Madelon’s cour- 
tesy, “ how goes the business ? ” 

“ Poorly,” said Bruno. “ Nobody buys any- ' 
thing now.” 

“ I am not surprised at that,” said old Brun. ' 
“ From St. Lazar e to the opening of Parliament, 
you might as well shut up the shop ; but, after 
Saint Esprit, times begin to improve. By-the- 
way, are you making much from your gold and 
silver lace ? ” 

‘‘ I don’t know, father,” said Bruno. “ I may 
find out at the end of the year.” 

The old man looked disgusted at this apathy, 
and getting up left the family group and went 
back into the shop. His son followed him. Ma- | 
delon, who had been left behind the counter, after 
a while rejoined the other two women in the back 
shop. 

“ Holy Virgin ! ” said she, “ but old master is I 
displeased. He has opened the box of fine gold- 1 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


85 


work, the watch-draAver, and the bureau of church 
ornaments, and he seems very angry.” 

“ Bruno has not made an inventory for three 
years,” said Aunt Marianne. ‘‘ I do not wonder 
that his father is angry.” 

A few hours later old Brun came into the back 
shop, looking pale and serious. Bruno Brun fol- 
lowed him, trembling and frightened. 

‘‘ It is high time that I came to look into mat- 
ters,” said the old man. ‘‘ Madelon, go back and 
tend the shop. — Sister,” said he, looking at Aunt 
JVIarianne for sympathy, Bruno’s business is in a 
very bad way. He has only three hundred livres 
in the house, and on the fifteenth of next month 
he must pay over two thousand ! ” 

“Well, I have credit,” said Bruno. “I can 
give my note.” 

“ By the horns of the devil ! ” said old Brun, 
“ is that the way to make money ? I left you 
here to get money, not to give your notes ! ” 

“Yes, father; but, if you can sell nothing, 
you must go to the Jews.” 

“ Go to the devil ! ” said old Brun, thoroughly 
aroused. “ You have neither prudence, judgment, 
nor resources — no mind, and no resolution. Can 
you think of no expedient ? Have you no enter- 
prise ? ” 

Bruno Brun shook his head stupidly, and tried 
to think of something to say, but without any re- 
sult. 


86 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


Old Brun slirugged his shoulders. 

“ Here, Madelon, come hack and tell these 
people how we used to sell watches and jewelry- 
in the old times — three thousand livres in twenty- 
four hours ! I was not driven to make terms with 
the posterity of Judas, I can tell you.” 

“ I remember,” said Madelon, going back like 
an old soldier to the souvenirs of his campaigns. 
‘‘ Once at the fair of Apt we sold in one afternoon 
twelve hundred crowns’ worth of jewelry ! ” 

That is so,” said old Brun. “ If the moun- 
tain comes not to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to 
the mountain.” Then he spoke with authority to 
his son. “ There will he a great fair at Grasse on 
St. Michael’s day, Bruno. Make up two boxes, 
one of watches, the other of chains and rings and 
cheap ornaments, and set up your stall there for 
three days. Your wife will go with you to help 
sell the goods. I shall stay here and take care of 
the house with my sister and Madelon. Old peo- 
ple are only good for that sort of quiet life.” 

“ And to give advice to those who have nei- 
ther experience, wisdom, nor judgment,” said 
Aunt Marianne with an acrid smile. 

“ You must pack up to-day and leave to-mor- 
row morning,” said the old man ; ‘‘ there is no 
time to be lost ; go, Bruno, bestir yourself ! ” 

The poor fellow obeyed without a word, but the 
idea of the journey was disagreeable and terrible 
to him. He called his Aunt Marianne to him, 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


87 


and, shutting the door, told her of the presenti- 
ments which he did not dare to confess to his 
father. 

“ I ought to make my will and get absolution 
before I go,” said he. ‘‘ The roads are not safe, 
and every day you hear of some robbery or assas- 
sination. The band of Gaspard de Besse — ” 

“ It is not your fault that you are as cowardly 
as a blind chicken,” said his aunt disdainfully. 
‘‘ Why should you be in greater danger than your 
father, who traveled twenty years without being 
assaulted ? ” 

“ And Rose ! what shall I do with her ? Gra- 
cious heaven ! a woman who cannot show her face 
but all the world stares ! How absurd to take her 
to a fair, where all the idle and drunken fellows 
come from miles around, and all the gay gentle- 
men! If I had only married the daughter of Mise 
Magnan, I should have been happy enough ! ” 

On her part, his young wife looked forward 
with delight to this journey into the country. 
To see the green fields and the forests, to breathe 
the fresh air — all these anticipations made her 
heart beat with joy. Madelon helped with the 
packing, and looked with a longing eye on these 
preparations, which recalled her old journeys. 

‘‘We were twice at Grasse,” said she. “It is 
Paradise ! Oh ! such fruits and such flowers ! The 
people are rich there, and they pay for everything 
without bargaining ! ” 


88 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


“ Is it far from here ? ” said Mis6 Brun. 

‘‘ Thirty-five leagues away, on the Italian road, 
and near the frontier.” 

“Near Nice, and the borders of the Yar?” 

“ Half a day’s journey or less,” said Madelon. 

“ Ah ! ” thought Mise Brun, “ we are going 
near to Galtieres ! ” 

Old Brun and his son packed away in good 
iron-bound boxes the gold and silver watches, 
rings, ear-rings, chains, the best part of their 
wealth ; for the portion of the young wife had 
been invested in the business. Bruno and Mise 
Brun were taking their worldly goods with them. 

“ Bruno, I have some good advice to give you,” 
said the old man. “ Find out the Marquis de 
Nieuselle ; he is in town to-day. Go to him ; he 
will buy some of your jewelry.” 

“ Why ? ” said the goldsmith, amazed. 

“He is a very affable gentleman,” said old 
Brun. “ I live only a league from his park, and 
he allows me to walk under the great trees in his 
grand avenue. Sometimes I meet him, and he 
speaks to me, and treats me with politeness. To- 
day I met him accidentally as I started to come 
here, and he asked me where I was going. I told 
him to visit my son in Aix, where he kept the best 
goldsmith’s shop in the place ; he did me the honor 
to say that he wished to buy some jewelry, and 
would look in. I do not want him to see the shop 
now, when everything is out of it ; so do you 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


89 


wait upon him, and show him what you have. It 
will he more respectful.” 

“ Immediately, father,” said Bruno, remember- 
ing vaguely as he did so that the marquis had a 
detestable reputation among the tradespeople ; 
that he never paid his bills, although he was im- 
mensely rich. He had not time, however, to warn 
his father, nor did he think it best in his present 
humor, but took his hat to walk to the town-house 
of the young nobleman, to ofPer, after the respect- 
ful fashion of the times, to have his boxes carried 
thither, if by so doing he could convenience his 
noble customer. 

But Nieuselle saved him the trouble by enter- 
ing the shop at the very moment, as if summoned 
by their speech, his head in the air, his gay and 
presuming swagger, his affable but conceited man- 
ner, accompanying him as usual. 

‘‘Good-morning, neighbor,” said he, offering 
his hand familiarly to old Brun, who was over- 
come by so much condescension, and hastened to 
offer his visitor a seat. “How do you do? You 
see I am a man of my word. Instead of waiting 
until to-morrow, I have come to-day.” 

“You do us great honor. Monsieur le Marquis,” 
said the old man, bowing to the grqund. “ But I 
am ashamed that you should see the shop now ; 
we are just packing our goods.” 

“ What ! are you going to leave the city ? You 
did not tell me that this morning.” 


90 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


‘‘If you have the condescension to listen to 
me, I will tell you, Monsieur le Marquis.” 

“ Go on, go on ! ” said Nieuselle, seating him- 
self with an air of protecting familiarity. “You 
are an honest man and my neighbor, I am inter- 
ested in whatever is of importance to you.” 

So old Brun told him at full length of the 
project he had in view of sending his son and his 
wife to the fair at Grasse. Nieuselle listened with 
much patience and attention. He was not at all 
disturbed by the presence of Madelon, who, seeing 
him so tranquilly seated at the corner of the 
counter, had recoiled as if he were a serpent. He 
made some small purchases and departed, feeling 
very much pleased with his visit, and full of new 
plans, not less ingenious and audacious than those 
which had had so unfortunate an ending at the 
Red Horse inn. 

For he had one of those “caprices” for the 
beautiful Mise Brun which sometimes seize men 
so corrupt and dissolute as he, particularly when 
the obstacles seem insurmountable. This fancy 
had finally grown to a passion. Irritated to mad- 
ness from having been so perpetually thwarted, 
he was ready to risk much more than he had done 
at first, in order to succeed in his adventure. The 
privileges of the nobility were not supposed to 
grant immunity from punishment to those who 
broke the laws, and the parliament of Provence 
had already condemned to death one great lord, 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


91 


whose crimes still give to his name a terrible 
celebrity in that part of the world. But the care- 
lessness and ignorance of the local police, and the 
real courage and scornful audacity of the noble- 
men, the dangerous nature of the country, where 
there are many high mountains and narrow de- 
files, such as that famous one which led to the Red 
Horse, all lent a sort of charm to these bold ad- 
venturers. Certain isolated localities had a par- 
ticularly bad name, from the robberies committed 
in them with impunity. This emboldened Nieu- 
selle. He resolved to commence again that out- 
lawry which had been so interrupted before, and 
the circumstances of the case certainly favored 
him. A robbery of Bruno Brim’s jewelry might 
throw suspicion on a more vulgar set of brigands, 
while the high-born robber could make off with 
the pearl on which his heart was set, unsuspected 
and uncaught. 

The marquis left Aix that evening, saying to 
everybody that he was on his way to Nieuselle ; 
but, with two faithful servants, Vascongado and 
Siffroi, he really took horse for Italy. 


CHAPTER V. 

At dawn on the morrow, a crazy old caiTiage, 
with a bit of ragged carpet thrown over the seats, 
and covered with a rusty leather canopy, drew up 


92 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


before the goldsmith’s door. The old man, with 
Madelon’s help, arranged the boxes under the 
seats. Aunt Marianne stood at the shop-door ad- 
ministering some last scoldings to Mise Brun, who 
looked at the poor equipage which was to carry 
her away from her gloomy surroundings, as Cin- 
derella may have looked at the fairy chariot. 

Bruno Brun, with a sort of stupid sadness, was 
taking a mental farewell of his tranquil and safe 
existence. There was nothing of the Alexander 
or the Columbus in Bruno ; he neither sighed for 
new worlds, nor, having found them, did he desire 
to conquer them. A quiet life over a watch-spring, 
varied by the gloomy pleasantry of a convict funer- 
al, was enough for him, poor fellow ! Meantime 
the fat peasant who was to drive them stood at the 
horse’s head, snapping his whip and whistling. 

If you are ready, be off ! ” said old Brun, 
pushing Madelon aside, who had brought a chair 
for her mistress. 

But the young woman sprang lightly to her 
seat without this clumsy aid, and, clapping her 
hands together with joy, like a child, exclaimed : 
“ Oh ! let us start. Bruno, we ought to be on 
our way.” 

“ What a goose ! ” said Aunt Marianne as she 
offered her dry cheek to her nephew for a parting 
salute. ‘‘Nephew, I shall not be on hand to 
watch your wife. Do you watch her ; she will 
need it. Meantime, God preserve you ! ” 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


93 


The poor goldsmith uttered a deep sigh, shook 
his aunt’s hand and his father’s, and then took 
! his place sullenly by his wife’s side. 

I “ Good luck to ship and cargo,” said old Bruno, 
j with an attempt to infuse some life into his heavy 
olfspring. 

The rustic cracked his whip. The old horse 
; gave a lunge of superannuated vivacity, which 
i made the carriage creak on its rusty springs, and 
kept up a false promise of swiftness through the 
silent streets, relapsing, however, at the gates of 
the city, into that sober and somewhat monoto- 
nous trot which a long experience had taught him 
was better fitted to long journeys than the spir- 
ited pace of the most ambitious Arabian. 

Mise Brun, who had shown her pleasure with 
such vivacity at starting, had now sobered doAvn 
like the old horse. She had become silent. The 
sweetest serenity beamed from her face. The in- 
effable harmony which fills the air, as the creation 
gradually awakes to the joy of existence and 
greets a new day, filled her with an ecstasy which 
was mingled with tears of joy. She saw for the 
first time those vast, tender, dewy horizons of 
which she had dreamed in the shadow of the 
walls which shut out for her everything but a 
corner of the sky. She saw Nature, the morning, 
the green fields, for the first time. 

The goldsmith, leaning back on his leather 
cushion, resigned himself to sleep. Neither the 


94 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


jolting of his crazy vehicle, the roughness of the 
road, nor the rusty grating of the springs, could 
disturb him. As for the beauties of Nature, they 
were unknown to him. Neither mountain nor 
valley appealed to his far-off senses. Once, in 
riding through a rich vineyard, he half opened 
his eyes to see what promise there was of a good 
yield. Michel, the driver, perceiving this dawn 
of interest, remarked to him : 

“ Ah ! those are the grapes from which we get 
Malvoisie ! ” 

The goldsmith dropped his head and seemed 
to reflect. A half mile further on he remarked : 

I believe that is the muscat grape of Fron- 
tignan, isn’t it ? ” 

After having made this profound observation 
he went to sleep again. 

Mise Brun passed this day in exquisite happi- 
ness. The fresh air intoxicated her ; this pure, 
luminous atmosphere made her alive with joy ; 
she was enjoying her birthright, of which she 
had been defrauded. She had those sensations 
of indescribable relief which prisoners feel when 
they go from dark dungeons into the blessed light 
of the sun. 

But, before the day was done, other and less 
tranquil thoughts came to mingle with the soft 
impressions of her first journey into the outer 
world. A foolish hope, which she strove to ban- 
ish, agitated her heart. She wondered if she 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


05 


should possibly meet Galtieres on this high road, 
which led to his country. Her breath came quick 
as she discerned from afar off a dark object on 
the white and dusty road, which wound round the 
hills or traversed the vast plains like a smooth riv- 
er; and when she found, as the object approached, 
that, instead of an elegant cavalier, it was only a 
peddler on his ragged pony, or at best a well-to- 
do farmer on his mare, which he had proudly 
dressed with bells and woolen tassels like an An- 
dalusian mule, she sighed and smiled and blamed 
herself for her folly. Each new encounter caused 
her a new emotion ; and finally she allowed her- 
self the illusion, knowing that she was soon to 
be undeceived. 

The high roads at the period of which we 
write were less frequented and less well kept 
than the most retired lanes nowadays. It was a 
day’s journey to overcome ten leagues. The deep 
ruts and steep hills required a slow pace. So the 
day but one after their departure the travelers 
had only reached the old Roman city Fr4jus, and 
they had yet a hard day’s journey before reach- 
ing Grasse. 

Up to this time Bruno Brun had traveled 
along calmly enough, without troubling himself 
with the possible dangers to which he might be 
exposed ; but, when he began to enter the moun- 
tain solitudes which lie between these two cities, 
he was assailed by all sorts of disagreeable mem- 


96 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


cries. The forest of Esterel had a bad name. 
Bands of criminals found a secure hiding-place 
here through the greater part of the year from 
the officers of the law. It was said even that the 
band of the famous Gaspard de Besse were hid- 
ing here, after having robbed and murdered half 
of Provence with impunity. The terrible celeb- 
rity of this place has passed into a proverb, and 
the people of that country still say, in their fig- 
urative and energetic language, if a man is in 
great trouble and peril : “ He is going through 
Esterel.” Occasionally the feeble local police 
caught a malefactor, beheaded him, and stuck 
his ghastly head on a pole somewhere in the most 
dangerous defile. But these hideous trophies of 
their valor frightened the innocent travelers much 
more than they did the guilty robbers, who always 
took a terrible revenge for their lost comrade. 

The travelers stopped for the night at an inn 
near the gates of Frejus. The lodging was not 
magnificent, and in spite of the grand sign, which 
was ornamented with a fantastic picture of the 
Adoration of the Magi, one was justified in doubt- 
ing if the accommodations of the “ Three Kings 
of Orient ” were any better than those of the other 
inns, which modestly indicated their hospitality 
by a branch of pine. But, little as the hostelry 
seemed calculated to attract custom, Mise Brun 
observed with some surprise that all the charcoal 
pots in the kitchen were lighted, and that the host 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


97 


j bustled about as if be were driven to death with 
I custom. The dining-room, however, was empty, 

I and nothing showed the presence of others than 
themselves. 

While the goldsmith, assisted by Michel, took 
to his room with great precaution and secrecy the 
; two boxes which held his jewelry and watches, 
Mise Brun, who had refreshed herself in her room, 

I sat down timidly at the corner of the table, and 
talked to the landlady. 

‘‘You are making great preparations ; do you 
expect much company to-night ? ” 

“ Dear ! dear ! ” said the landlady ; “ if my 
own father should come to see me to-night, I 
should have to turn him away ! My house is 
full ! ” and she swelled with importance. 

“ But you had nobody here when we came, for 
you showed me three rooms from which to choose,” 
protested Mise Brun. 

“ That is true ; but a gentleman who was not 
pleased with the inn where he stopped has come 
in since, and taken all my rooms ; he has his ser- 
vants and their horses. Oh ! I always have the best 
people here ; they pay well ! ” said the hostess, 
grandly. 

“Well ! so much the better,” said Mise Brun, 
wondering who this great gentleman might be, 
not thinking that it was the Marquis de Nieuselle 
and his two acolytes. 

The bedrooms of this tavern opened on a long 
7 


98 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


corridor, the walls of which were ornamented by 
charcoal sketches from various artists, represent- 
ing all the beasts of the field with greater or less 
accuracy, and every order of architecture from a 
dog-kennel up to a card-house. In this species of 
common ante-chamber opened all the doors of the 
ill-kept and cobwebbed bedrooms which the land- 
lady grandly called her apartments. While Bruno 
Brun arranged his boxes and gossiped away with 
Michel, the Marquis of Nieuselle, and his aid, Vas- 
congado, occupying the neighboring rooms, con- 
descended to listen, and heard every word that 
was said. 

There ! the boxes are safe ! Kow we must 
sup, and go to bed early, Michel, so that we can 
start before dawn. Do you hear ? ” said the gold- 
smith. 

“ Yes,” said the driver, “ I will get up and feed 
the horse before sunrise ; then we will breakfast, 
and start at dawn. I promise you that long 
before nightfall we shall be out of the forest of 
Esterel.” 

‘‘ I hope not ! ” whispered the Marquis de Nieu- 
selle on the other side of the wall. 

This worthy then drew back into his room and 
held council with Vascongado and Siffroi. The 
latter had come to the inn disguised as a peasant, 
not as belonging to the marquis. He pretended to 
be the servant of a gentleman who was going to 
the fair at Grasse, and thus accounted for the fact 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


99 


that he had a fine Mecklenburg horse, such as a 
man of his condition would not have had, which 
he was taking on to his master. Nieuselle did not 
show himself, but had his supper served in his bed- 
room. He did not let Vascongado put his evil 
face out of the door, lest Mise Brun should see 
him, and thus find out that she was again under 
the same roof with the man whose insolence and 
audacity had caused her in their former meeting so 
much fear and shame. 

The next morning at dawn the goldsmith and 
his wife were ready to continue their journey. 
Everybody seemed to be asleep in the inn. The oil- 
lamp which hung in the passage smoked and went 
out, adding to the bad smells and imperfect light 
of this dirty ante-chamber. “An early village 
cock,” perched in the kitchen, gave a shrill crow 
at the first light of day, thus doing duty for the 
clock, which had become mute a long time since. 

Bruno Brun, seized by some evil presentiment, 
hurried to the stable. The carriage stood there, 
the empty thills on the ground, as it had stood 
the evening before ; while in front of the stable 
door stood Michel, his arms in the air, and utter- 
ing lamentable cries and shocking oaths alter- 
nately. He pointed within, at his horse, which lay 
on a wisp of straw, also uttering groans. 

Bruno Brun walked ii^and looked at the horse. 
The poor old beast was dying. The goldsmith, 
seeing at a glance that 'his journey was interrupt- 


100 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


e<3 by this accident, walked twice around the 
stable, thinking. Then he sat down, buried his 
face in his hands, leaned his elbows on his knees, 
gave himself up to despair, and groaned out : 

“All is lost ! We cannot reach Grasse until 
the day after the fair. Our journey has been for 
nothing ! ” 

“Nothing! don’t say so!” said Mis6 Brun. 
“ Not at all ! I will go and inquire if we cannot 
get another horse and another driver ! ” 

“ That is a good idea,” said Bruno Brun, drop- 
ping his hands and looking at his wife. 

While this scene was passing in the court, 
Yascongado was mounting four steps at a time 
toward his master’s room. 

“ Monsieur le Marquis had better rise and get 
ready to depart,” said he. The drug has done 
wonders ; the old horse cannot stir. The travel- 
ers are very anxious ; the young woman has pro- 
posed to get another hor&e, and Siffroi has offered 
her Biscuit.” 

“ Oh ! very well ! ” said Nieuselle. “ They fall 
into the snare, do they ? Let me look out a mo- 
ment.” He approached the window with caution, 
and, drawing around him the vestige of curtain 
which floated before the broken panes, looked out. 
“ Good ! ” cried he. “ Siffroi is speaking to her, 
the beauty ! Poor lamb ! she jumps directly into 
the jaws of the wolf. Here Yascongado, help me 
to dress.” 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


101 


‘‘She has given him some money,” said Vas- 
congado, taking another peep. “ Siffroi is putting 
Biscuit into the shafts of that villainous old cart. 
What an honor for such a carriage as that ! ” 

“ Admirable ! ” laughed Nieuselle. “ Now 
hurry. As soon as they have started, saddle my 
horse. I must reach the hotel at Esterel before 
i they arrive. I shall take a path through the forest 
to the left, and reach the high road before them. 
1 Do you follow, armed to the teeth ! ” 

The goldsmith had willingly consented to this 
new arrangement. He was very glad to get so 
good a horse and so able-bodied a driver for so 
1 little money ; for Siffroi had been very moderate 
in his charges. But he did not feel too safe about 
his load, and made formidable preparations. He 
detached an immense silver watch, which for 
twenty years had not quitted his pocket, and hid 
it, with all the silver he had about him, in the bag 
of hay on which Mise Brun rested her slender feet. 
Then he put bravely in his belt a huge knife, which 
I had been freshly sharpened, and, buttoning up his 
coat with the air of a man who meant to sell his 
life dearly, he leaned back like one who has taken 
his resolution. 

The sun was fairly risen as the travelers en- 
tered the mountain pass of Esterel. A picture of 
sombre magnificence opened before Mise Brun. 
The winding road which they were to follow went 
ever upward, hidden here and there by some small 


102 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


elevation which intervened between them and the 
mountain top, which is the culminating point of 
all this wild region. Below the range of hills, 
valleys filled with trees hid water-courses and 
brooks which could be heard trickling down the 
rocks, and whose limpid waves spread over the 
green pastures, where no shepherd had as yet led 
his flocks. All was silent ; the picture was in the 
pure and limpid colors of the blue of the sky, the 
green of the trees, the dark shadow of the moun- 
tain, all bathed in the dew of the morning. 

But, when the sun rose higher in the heavens, 
the mountains and valleys became enlivened by a 
thousand tints, and the snow-white clouds, spot- 
ting the intense blue of the sky, promised a warm 
and perhaps rainy day. As the travelers went 
on, fresh breezes sprang up in the forest and tem- 
pered the heated breath of the south wind, which, 
having passed over the flat shores of the Gulf of 
Fro jus, came to cool itself in the damp valleys of 
Esterel. This soft temperature, this calm perspec- 
tive, the silence and peace of these solitudes, threw 
Mis6 Brun’s soul into a melancholy reverie. Her 
heart was oppressed by a gentle languor. She 
wrapped herself in silent thought, and inter- 
mingled present impressions with past memories, 
filling these romantic solitudes with one poetic 
figure, that of Monsieur de Galti^res. 

As for Bruno Brun, he had ceased to look 
about him ; his chin was sunk on his breast, his 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


103 


eyes were closed, and he breathed loudly, as if he 
had determined to sleep bravely in the midst of 
danger. 

His young wife descended lightly from the 
carriage and began to walk slowly up the steep 
ascent of this forest road. Above her head the 
pines, with a soft music all their own, held their 
green crowns ; the oaks extended from one side 
of the road to the other their immovable ramparts 
of foliage. Sometimes a little opening in the trees 
would appear, like the natural garden of a hermit. 
There flourished in native beauty the flowers we 
cultivate in gardens — ^the golden corymbs of the 
immortelle, the rosy pendants of the columbine, 
and the dark purple chalice of the violet, which 
gave its exquisite perfume to the winds. In the 
ravines the myrtle mingled its polished leaves and 
white flowers with the branches of the honey- 
suckle, whose berries of shining red looked like 
coral beads. 

Mis6 Brun walked onward without fear, and 
explored the forest with loving eyes. She had 
forgotten its evil reputation ; she thought no 
more of Gaspard de Besse and his band. She 
was charmed at each turn of the road, at each 
group of trees, at each new view, and said softly 
to herself, “ How beautiful ! how beautiful ! Oh, 
that I could always live here ! ” 

Bruno Brun awoke at this moment, and, jump- 
ing out to join his wife, heard this last ejaculation. 


104 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


“ Yes, live here ! I like that ! in company with 
robbers and wolves ! Holy Virgin, take me 
quickly through this frightful place ! these moun- 
tains, these trees, these flowers, and everything 
that belongs to this hon-ible place ! ” 

Bruno Brun was soon tired of walking, and 
took his place in the carriage. However, he had 
one light and agreeable diversion presented to 
him as a turn in the road brought them to a gi- 
gantic plateau, one of the steps, so to speak, of 
the staircase they were ascending. Two heads 
were mounted on pollard trees, just at the en- 
trance to one of the openings in the forest, where 
grew the most beautiful and luxuriant flowers. 

Mise Brun, still walking in front, uttered a 
cry of horror, covered her eyes, and walked on ; 
but Bruno Brun stopped the carriage, and looked 
up with satisfaction. 

“ Aha ! I am charmed to see you up there, 
my flne friends ! ” said he ; “ that shows that 
there is some hope for honest folk. How that 
one there makes a pretty face, does he not *? 
Well, his comrades can come and see what it is 
to be food for the birds. And the other one — 
ha ! ha ! he can look, but he cannot stir, and good 
men can ride on in safety.” 

He would have liked to stop and talk to them 
and at them for an hour, but Siffroi moved on. 

“ I do not like to And myself face to face with 
these people,” murmured Siffroi, who, though a 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


105 


determined sinner, had still certain repugnances. 
“ It makes me sick to see their horrid faces.” 

“ If I could have got nearer, I might have 
recognized them,” said Bruno. ‘‘ They must be 
of the band of six who were beheaded last. The 
court ordered that two heads should be carried to 
Boupas, two to the willow copse, two to Esterel. 
So the headsman put the heads in a basket, and 
we took the bodies.” 

‘‘ You took the bodies ? ” said Siffroi, shudder- 
ing. 

Yes,” said the goldsmith, ostentatiously, “ I 
belong to the brotherhood of Blue Penitents, who 
bury the beheaded. The gentlemen of Parlia- 
ment passed us a vote of thanks last year.” 

Pouah ! I should rather kill a man outright 
than to touch him after he was beheaded ! ” said 
Siffroi, giving Biscuit a good blow with his whip. 

After six hours' travel, interrupted by short 
but frequent halts, the goldsmith and his party 
arrived at the highest point of the mountain. 
The road from this point became almost impass- 
able. It was like the bed of a torrent. The 
stones under their feet were covered with a slip- 
pery green moss, and parasitical plants grew on 
the wet precipices, which dropped a continual 
rain. Little trickling streams bounded off into 
beds of moss, and bathed the sparse growth in 
the crevices of the rocks. On every side the eye 
lost itself in the magnificent green horizon of 


106 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


forest, and no noise save that of the air and the 
water broke the supreme silence of this wild spot. 
Only one sign of human life appeared : a thin 
column of smoke arose just beyond a clump of 
trees, betraying a habitation. 

“ What in the world does that mean ? ” asked 
the goldsmith, looking with mingled satisfaction 
and concern at this unexpected sight. My brave 
fellow,” addressing Siffroi, ‘‘ do you know where 
we are ? ” 

“Certainly,” said that official. “We have 
reached the lodge of Esterel. It is a house I 
know as well as I do my father’s, and where I am 
sure of being as well received,” added the auda- 
cious creature. 

“ Ah ! there it is,” said Mise Brun, pointing 
to a rather large house which a sudden turn in 
the road revealed, and which was protected 
against the north wind by a grove of oaks. 

The lodge of Esterel was a house of two 
stories, solidly built on an isolated rock. At first 
glance this house looked like those of the peasants 
of the plain. The small windows irregularly di- 
versified the front. The flat roof was covered 
with red tiles, so carelessly fastened that they 
threatened to fall on the heads of the passers-by. 
Some glass bull’s-eyes gave a little light to the 
garret. The lower story, was scarcely better than 
a stable. Such was the wretched and unpromising 
exterior of the lodge of Esterel ; but, looking at it 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


107 


with a little more care, it revealed a solidity of 
construction which was not common in the houses 
of the valley. The thick walls, the windows pro- 
tected by iron bars, the double oaken doors, all 
spoke of precautions against surprise. It was a 
garrison, a fort, and betokened danger. It was 
indeed an exposed spot, between the road and the 
forest. A wicket placed in the door permitted 
those who were within to reconnoitre, and to par- 
ley with those without. Certain openings in the 
wall gave obliquely on the courtyard, and offered 
a very good opportunity for a pistol-shot as a pos- 
sible answer to a gentleman who should announce 
himself in a hostile manner. None, therefore, but 
a powerful party, and scarcely then except by 
regularly besieging it, could enter the lodge of 
Esterel without the permission of those inside, 
after the doors were shut. 

Siffroi stopped his horse, and pointing out with 
his whip the sign, on which was written, Enter- 
tainment for Man and Beast,” he said to the gold- 
smith, with an air of cheerful suggestion : 

“Suppose you get out and rest and refresh 
yourself, master, while I give my horse a mouth- 
ful of hay and a drink. He has had a tough climb 
of it ! ” 

This proposition did not seem unreasonable to 
Bruno, although he had at first determined not to 
stop in these dangerous woods. 

“ I am hungry,” said he to his wife ; “ we have 


108 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


had no breakfast. Perhaps we could get an ome- 
lette and cup of coffee here ; shall we try ? ” 

“As you please,” said she. “Although I 
should like to breakfast in the forest ; see here, I 
have bread and fruit in my basket.” 

But Bruno preferred the hot coffee and the 
savory omelette which he pictured to himself. So 
he directed Siffroi to knock at the door, which 
remained inhospitably closed for a long time. A 
ragged and slatternly peasant girl, with shock 
head, finally appeared, and, after carefully exam- 
ining the newly arrived, asked them to come in, 
with a curt and uncivil manner. It was nearly 
noon, and the travelers were half famished. 

The interior of this house reminded Mise Brun 
forcibly of the Red Horse ; the large smoky room, 
the big fireplace, near which she had sat with 
Monsieur de Galti^res while the noisy members of 
the local police had joked and drunk their wine at 
the oaken table, and the same sort of room open- 
ing out of it as that one in which the Marquis de 
Nieuselle had asked her to sup with him. She 
seated herself quietly at the corner of the table, 
watching the preparations for the breakfast while 
her husband talked to the servant. 

“ Do many travelers stop here ? ” asked Bruno. 
“ Sometimes,” said the girl in a gruff voice. 
“Nobody to-day, I suppose ? ” 

“ People come along later,” said she. 

“ What ? In the evening ? ” 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


109 


“ Yes, to sleep here.” 

“ Great heaven ! are there people willing to 
sleep in the middle of the forest of Esterel?” 
asked the goldsmith. 

Why not ? ” said the servant. “ My mistress 
and I sleep here every night of our lives.” 

“ Do you and she live here alone ? ” 

“ Yes, all alone.” 

“ And you are not afraid ? ” 

“ No ! ” said the girl disdainfully, turning her 
back ; “ what should we be afraid of ? ” 

At this moment the hostess entered. She was 
a robust, good-looking peasant woman, evidently 
able to give a rough word to a rough customer, 
but with an agreeable face and manner for these 
new comers, whom she began to serve dili- 
gently. 

They ate their breakfast quietly, and sat some 
twenty minutes waiting for Siffroi. As he did 
not appear, Bruno went out to see what detained 
him. 

Siffroi was calmly seated on the shaft of the 
carriage, while Biscuit tranquilly munched his hay 
in the stable. 

“ What are you waiting for ? ” said Bruno, 
very indignantly. ‘‘ You should be ready to start 
this minute ! ” ^ 

‘‘ Be patient, good sir,” said Siffroi. “ I find 
that we have met with an accident.” 

“ Met with an accident ! what accident ? This 


110 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


is a most unlucky j ourney. Wkat Las happened ? ” 
said Bruno, angry and frightened. 

“ My horse has cast two shoes,” said Siffroi, 
and has hurt his feet on these sharp stones. You 
and I could not have walked over them bare- 
footed. Poor beast ? ” 

“ Great heaven ! and who can shoe him up 
here ? ” 

“ I will,” said Siffroi, “ if the maid can give 
me the hammer and nails.” 

The goldsmith was completely duped by this 
very natural story, and, bidding Siffroi to make 
haste, he returned to his wife, who received the 
news of this accident, as she had the first, with 
tranquillity, and who began to wander down the 
pretty forest paths which led away from the house. 

“Do not go far. Rose,” said her husband. 
She turned and nodded to him, with her usual 
obedience. 

While this was passing below, the hostess had 
gone up-stairs, where Rieuselle awaited her. The 
marquis had been there for two hours, carefully 
hidden with Vascongado in a species of garret 
under the bull’s-eye. In a corner was a narrow 
window from which he could watch without be- 
ing seen. He saw Bruno Brun walking up and 
down irritably, and looking at the old stone dial 
to see what time it was. The rain had long ago 
effaced the figures, so that his quest was in vain. 

The hostess entered the garret bedroom. 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


Ill 


“Well!” said she, with a coolness which 
proved to Nieuselle that she would not embarrass 
him by showing unnecessary scruples, “ what do 
you wish me to do now ? ” 

“ Keep these people here until evening ; make 
any excuses you can to tranquillize them, but keep 
them here.” 

“ And what then ? ” 

“ Leave the rest to me,” said Nieuselle. “ You 
and your servants can go to bed when you are 
ready, and do not get up until I call you.” 

“ That is all right as far as you are concerned, 

I monsieur ; but what can I do if other customers 
come along and demand a night’s lodging ? I 
cannot turn them away.” 

“ Oh ! go to the devil ! Who will come here 
to sleep, in this miserable, lonely, forlorn spot, I 
should like to know ? ” 

“ Gentlemen like yourself, monsieur, who are 
not too anxious that their business should be in- 
quired into, and who seek a spot where the offi- 
cers of justice do not often come,” said the host- 
ess, impudently. 

Nieuselle frowned, but knew too much to re- 
prove her. 

“ Listen a moment,” said he. “ I see what 
sort of guests you commonly entertain, and whom 
you expect to-night. Now, let me tell you, it 
will neither profit them nor you to strangle me. 
I have brought only enough gold to pay your bill. 


112 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


My coat is not worth killing me for, and I am of 
importance enough to be inquired after ! ” 

“ That is quite clear,” said the hostess, with 
perfect composure ; ‘‘ but don’t trouble yourself. 
People are apt to think that the gentlemen who 
take purses kill for pleasure. Not at all. They 
ask nothing better than to let the beast go after 
taking the harness. If somebody gets killed oc- 
casionally, it is not their fault.” 

“No doubt ; but what are you driving at ? ’’ 
said Nieuselle. 

The hostess stood for a moment in silence. 
“ Is this anything more or less than a love af- 
fair ? ” said she, suddenly. 

“ Nothing in the world ! ” said Nieuselle, gay- 
ly. “ Make yourself CQmfortable. I am not wor- 
thy to associate with your noble friends, I assure 
you. They may rob and steal and appropriate 
all the goods of your lodger. All I want is the 
lady.” 

“ Our husband is getting impatient,” said the 
worthy hostess, calmly watching Bruno. He was 
running up and down and expostulating with Sif- 
froi, who was dragging at the shafts as if he 
wished to harness himself in instead of Biscuit. 

“ Go down and calm him,” said Nieuselle, laugh- 
ing. “ Invent all the excuses you can. Tell 
Siffroi to put the horse in, and then to break the 
springs.” 

“ He can start if he pleases, and overturn the 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


113 


carriage at the entrance to the next ravine ; it 
often happens,” said the calm hostess. 

“There will be no further need of excuses,” 
said Vascongado, who had been looking at the 
sky. “ In less than an hour it will rain so that 
a dog couldn’t travel the road down the moun- 


( 

I 

[ 


tain ! ” 

It was true. A huge mass of black cloud had 
rapidly risen from the horizon, and had covered 
half the sky. Flashes of lightning began to play 
against this sombre curtain, whose trailing skirts 
seemed almost to sweep the mountain-top. The 
wind fell, and a solemn silence enveloped the 
world. Nature was preparing herself by a mo- 
ment of repose for a furious assault, which should 
shake the whole creation. 

“ Good weather for us ! ” said Nieuselle, smil- 
ing. “ At the first thunder-clap that poor coward 
will be glad enough to give up his journey and 
stay here. Everything favors me. The devil 
take me, if she gets away this time ! ” 

The hostess shook her head. “ Do not be too 
confident,” said she. “This weather may send 
hither some travelers, who even now perhaps are 
near the mountain-top, and who will not like to 
go down in the rain. They may come to spend 
the night, perhaps. As for my own people, I 
can take care of them ; they will not annoy you. 
But the honest men who come along — what shall 
I do with them ? Chance may send me customers 
8 


114 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


for whom I cannot answer — the mounted police, 
for instance.” 

“ The devil ! ” said Nieuselle. “ If the bad 
weather sends the police hither, as at the Red 
Horse inn, that would indeed be villainous luck. 
However, listen ; I do not ask you to do the im- 
possible. In case they arrive, manage matters as 
best you can. I only say this in your ear : if I 
succeed in accomplishing the business which has 
brought me to your house, you will receive in 
eight days the biggest purse of gold you ever saw, 
mine hostess. You can then afford to retire from 
business, and live down in the valley. See, I will 
give you some of it now — there ; and for the rest, 
my word of honor as a gentleman.” 

Nieuselle put a rouleau of gold into her hand 
as he spoke ; his grand manner dazzled and pleased 
her. 

“Well, well! be quiet, monsieur,” said she, 
with a conciliatory gesture and a courtesy. “ Per- 
haps nobody will come ; let us hope so at least.” 

The hostess thereupon went out of the stuffy 
garret, shutting the door after her. 

“ Miserable old witch ! ” said Vascongado. 
“ This is a den of thieves, I am convinced. Bruno 
Brun has fallen into a double trap. Monsieur le 
Marquis will steal his wife, and the gentlemen 
who live here will steal his watches.” 

“ So much the better for me if they do,” said 
Nieuselle. “ Everything can be laid at their door. 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


115 


How pleasant it will be to add this adventure to 
the account of Gaspard de Besse ! I declare I 
laugh as I hear myself telling it after dinner ! ” 

During all this time Mise Brun had waited 
patiently for her husband’s orders. After taking 
a little stroll and plucking wild flowers for her 
belt and her bosom, and to hold in her hand, she 
had seated herself near the house, in a little shaded 
seat which overlooked the kitchen garden where 
the hostess raised her onions, cabbages, sage, sal- 
ads, and artichokes. Beyond this humble attempt 
at cultivation, all was wild, and Mise Brun di- 
vided her glances between the majesty of the 
earth, with its sweep of mountains and its im- 
mensity of forest, and the majesty of the heav- 
ens, where all the glories of the celestial scenery 
were marshaled under the great forces of wind 
and tempest, lightning and thunder, cloud and 
rain. 

The poor ragged servant had followed her, and 
seated herself on a lower step of the rude summer- 
house, and was looking at her with a sort of ado- 
ration. This poor creature, accustomed to her own 
ugliness, and the coarse features and soiled gar- 
ments of her mistress, and to the rude and coarse 
attributes of their guests, looked at the gracious 
fresh beauty of Mise Brun as she would have ad- 
mired some miraculous flower or some wonderful 
bird. The modest, becoming dress of Mis6 Brun 
pleased her especially. Her delicately fluted cap. 


116 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


and the rose-colored ribbon which was tied under 
her embroidered linen collar, and which fell with 
long ends on her neat chemisette, seemed to this 
poor scrub to be the perfection of loveliness. 

Mise Brun read her thoughts in her eager eyes, 
and spoke to her kindly. 

“ Come here, you poor little thing,” said she. 

Are you afraid of me ? ” 

“No ; you are beautiful,” said the servant, 
with a grin of contentment. 

This poor child, not more than fifteen or there- 
about, would have been pretty herself if her hard 
life had not withered her freshness in its first 
blossoming. The hot sun, the exposure to the air 
at all hours, hard work, and poor food, had all 
conspired to ruin her looks. Her skin was of a 
dirty brown ; her hair was the same color ; her 
figure was thin and bent. Her clothes were as poor 
as herself. An old cloth petticoat hung round her 
thin legs, and a chemise of unbleached stuff suf- 
ficed to cover her neck and arms. Her hair, ragged 
and unkempt, was partly covered by a dirty cap, 
which was tied under her chin by a wisp of yarn. 

“You like to rest a moment, do you?” said 
Mise Brun, kindly. “ Do you have to work very 
hard?” 

“ So so,” said the girl, carelessly. “ I cook ; I 
clean the kitchen ; I work in the stable ; and, when 
I have nothing else to do, I go to the forest and 
fetch fagots. And you?” said she, looking at 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


117 


Mise Brun’s small white hands. “You are a city- 
lady ; you never work ? ” 

“ No, I am not a lady. I work, as you do, from 
morning till night, but without ever moving from 
my seat,” said Mis6 Brun, going back in imagina- 
tion to the dull corner of the back shop, to her 
hard chair and her spinning-wheel, between the 
I window and the wall. “ You are very fortunate 
to be able to live here in these beautiful moun- 
tains,” said she to the servant. “ I wish with all 
my heart I was in your place ! ” 

“ And I wish with all my soul that I was exactly 
like you,” said the poor thing, looking from Mise 
Brun to herself. 

“ You do not know what you say,” said Mis6 
Brun, sadly. 

“ I should like to be fair, and pretty, and clean, 
and well-dressed,” said the girl. “ If I looked like 
you, I would look at myself all day and all night.” 

This emphatic compliment made Mise Brun 
laugh loud. She passed her hand caressingly over 
the shock head of the poor peasant girl, trying to 
arrange her disheveled locks into regular braids. 

“You are very simple, if you find anything to 
admire in my clothes. What would you say if 
you could see the great ladies, with their gold 
chains, and pearls, and diamonds, and plumes ? ” 

“ Which would not please me,” said the servant, 
with a seriousness and disdainful gesture which 
made Mise Brun laugh again. 


118 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


“Don’t you like pretty things?” she asked. 
“ Have you never seen the gold rings and the sil- 
ver crosses which the peddlers sell ? ” 

The poor girl shook her head with a sigh, 
and looked longingly at Mise Brun’s ribbon. 

“I love ribbons better than silver or gold,” 
said she. 

“That is fortunate,” said the young beauty, 
with exquisite grace. “ I have neither gold nor 
silver to give you, but you shall have this rose- 
colored ribbon if you like.” 

With these words she took off her ribbon, and, 
removing the girl’s cap, tied it around her now 
smooth and braided locks. The poor child’s face 
was radiant. 

This little scene was interrupted by Bruno 
Brun, who had been gradually taking in the signs 
of the times, and who began to be convinced that 
there was to be a storm. 

“ Wife ! wife ! ” said he, anxiously. “ What 
will become of us, what shall we do ? See what 
a dreadful storm is coming up ! ” 

“Well! we must wait until it passes over,” 
said Mise Brun, with her usual calm resignation. 

“ But we are in the woods of Esterel ! ” 

“ It is not so bad a place as it is called.” 

“ God in heaven ! what do you mean ? ” said 
Bruno. “ A cut-throat place, where nobody ven- 
tures after dark ; and we shall be obliged to pass 
the night here, perhaps.” 


TUB GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


119 


“ Oh ! well, be patient. It is better to stay 
here than to venture on a road washed by the 
rain, and where we might be thrown over a preci- 
pice. Let us try to be patient, Bruno ! ” 

The tranquil good sense of his young wife had 
its effect on the goldsmith’s heated imagination. 
He did not wish to be thrown over a precipice ; 
of that at least he was certain. He was in one 
of those predicaments which give courage to the 
weakest. He could neither go backward nor for- 
ward, so he took the brave resolution to stay 
where he was. 

“ Go in,” said he to his wife, in a voice of 
marital authority ; “ go in. Perhaps we shall be 
able yet to reach Grasse before the opening of the 
fair.” 

A tremendous clap of thunder sent Bruno in 
with a haste more earnest than it was becoming. 
The wind, which had been so still, started up, and 
blew a sonorous music through the pines. All 
the furies seemed let loose in the depths of the 
forest. Vivid lightning played incessantly around, 
and rent the dense cloud which enveloped the 
mountain. The blind forces of the elements 
seemed to threaten the creation with their tremen- 
dous charge. 

Mise Brun was silent with adoration. She 
looked up toward the tempest with awe, but not 
with fear. The formidable voices which spoke 
around her filled her heart with religious emotion. 


120 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


and inspired her imagination with sublime ecstasy. 
She could not find words to express the new feel- 
ings which filled her soul. She murmured, with 
her eyes raised to the sky : “ My God ! My God ! 
how great is thy power, how wonderful thy 
works ! ” 

“ Come in, wife,” said the goldsmith. “ I have 
felt a drop of rain ; hurry and come in ! ” 

She turned slowly, and followed her husband 
in silence into the chamber where he had deposited 
his boxes. This room in the second story looked 
like a cave, rather than an apartment in a human 
habitation. One window, high above their heads, 
was the only one, and that was barred off by an 
iron cross. A bed without curtains, a box which 
could also serve as a seat, and a huge table, com- 
pleted the furnishing. This prison -like atmo- 
sphere rejoiced Bruno Brun. 

“We shall do Very well here,” said he. “ The 
room is built in on all sides ; we shall not hear the 
thunder so loud. The door is solid and has a 
good bolt. Ah ! here we shall be safe and tran- 
quil ! ” 

Mis6 Brun seated herself on the box, took out 
her knitting, and resigned herself to work. The 
goldsmith lay down on the bed, put his fingers in 
his ears, and shut his eyes so that he should not 
see the lightning. Over their heads the storm 
still raged. The rain fell in torrents ; the thunder 
growled ; the wind rushed through the gorge and 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


121 


shook the trees, and then died away in hoarse and 
threatening sounds. 

Each time that a flash of lightning dazzled the 
eyes of Mise Brun, she made the sign of the Cross 
and uttered a prayer; but she kept on peacefully 
I with her knitting. 

I Bruno Brun turned over and over on his bed, 
talking to himself and groaning. 

“ Oh ! I wish I knew what time it was ! How 
tiresome this is. I would give twenty-five louis, 
if I had them, to be back in the shop, quietly at 
work. The devil take all journeys ! If I live to 
get back safe and sound, I make a vow to my pa- 
tron saint that I never will lose sight again of the 
ramparts of the city of Aix ! ” 

During one of these soliloquies, Mise Brun 
heard the sound of a horse’s feet in the court- 
yard. She listened, and became aware that some 
new comer had arrived at the lodge of Esterel. 
She heard the door opened and shut, but the new 
arrival did not seem to disturb the quiet of the 
house. A few minutes later she heard a step pass- 
ing her door and walking along the corridor on 
which the bedrooms opened. This circumstance 
did not, however, impress her particularly. She 
did not interrupt her husband’s remarks, but went 
on quietly with her work, listening to the voices 
of the storm, which now became wailing and less 
furious. 

Night fell, and a cold dampness spread through 


122 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


the gloomy chamber. The lightning and thunder 
ceased, the wind died away. The poor young 
woman let her knitting fall on her knees, and gave 
herself up to sad thoughts. Bruno had fallen 
asleep, and dreamed probably that he was saying 
vespers in the chapel of the Blue Penitents, for he 
moved his lips and muttered a nasal and monoto- 
nous chant. 

In the midst of this silence and gloom Mis6 
Brun was struck with a sudden fright. She got 
up to go for a candle, when, opening her door, 
she saw the hostess and the little servant coming 
toward her, each with a tallow dip in her hand. 

“ I came to ask you what time you would like 
supper,” said the former ; “ and perhaps you 
would come down and sit in the kitchen ? There 
is a good fire there, and the evening is cold.” 

Mise Brun was about to accept this invitation, 
when a rapid gesture from the servant, who stood 
behind her mistress, decided her to refuse. There 
was such marked terror and solicitude in the face 
of this girl, the whole picture was so striking, 
so like one of Rembrandt’s studies of light and 
shadow, as the two women stood in the dark un- 
fathomable gloom, with their shining candles, that 
Mise Brun paused. 

“ Ro,” she answered ; “ give me a candle, and 
I will await my husband’s waking ; he is asleep 
just now.” 

The hostess bowed and walked on. Mise Brun 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


123 


sat down and meditated. What sinister atmo- 
sphere surrounded her ? Why all this mystery, 
and accident, and detention ? Why did the little 
servant warn her ? 

A low knock at the door seemed to answer her. 
She opened it, and the servant stood there alone. 

“Come out here,” said she softly, drawing 
Mise Brim into the corridor. 

“ What do you want of me ? ” whispered the 
young woman. 

“I want to save you ! You are threatened 
with a great danger. There is a man here who 
wants to carry you away from your husband. He 
has been hidden here since morning.” 

She blew out her candle, and led Mise Brun 
by the hand along the dark passage, until they 
were nearly opposite a half-opened door. 

“ Look in there,” said she, whispering in her 

ear. 

Mise Brun cast a terrified glance into the room, 
and retreated trembling and stupefied. There sat 
Nieuselle and Vascongado and another, near the 
fire, as at the inn of the Red Horse. The women 
retreated with noiseless steps. 

“ That is not all,” said the servant. “ There 
is another arrival, and these last men have come 
to steal your boxes, and to kill your husband if he 
resists ! ” 

“Holy Mother of God ! We are lost, we are 
lost ! ” said the poor victim, with the cold calm- 


124 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


ness which helpless people exhibit often in the 
presence of sudden and inevitable peril. 

“ I should not have told you, only that I hope 
to be able to save you,” said the brave little peas- 
ant, who still wore round her head Mise Brun’s 
ribbon. “ Listen to me. There, at the other end 
of the passage, is somebody who perhaps can save 
you.” 

“ The traveler who came in this afternoon ? ” 
said Mise Brun. 

‘‘Yes ! isTone of these people below know of his 
arrival. Go to him, throw yourself at his feet, 
tell him of your danger. You are so beautiful 
that no one could see you weep without wishing 
to save you ! He will protect you ! He is a lion ; 
he will fight, he will save you. I will answer 
for him ; he is good, and generous, and noble. 
Go !” 

“ Do you know this man ? ” asked Mise Brun, 
feeling her way in the darkness. 

“ Oh, yes, I know him well. This is his door. 
Go quickly ; there is not a minute to lose — ^go ! 
Some one calls me — do you hear ? ” And the 
voice of the hostess began to ascend through the 
silence and darkness. 

The little servant pressed Mise Brun’s hands 
to her forehead and lips. “ Don’t tell of me, 
whatever happens,” said she ; “ for they would 
kill me ! ” 

She disappeared in the darkness, with the quiet 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


125 


agility of a cat, leaving poor Mis6 Brun in dread- 
i ful uncertainty. 

I At the same moment a gleam of light shone 
j under the stranger’s door, and Nieuselle’s loud 
laughter resounded from the room into which she 
had looked. 

She knocked gently, and immediately entered. 

I A man sat before a fire, with candles on the table 
near him, and with his back toward the door. At 
the noise which she made in entering, he spoke, 
without looking at her : 

“ Have the Italian courier and his escort passed 
yet?” 

Hearing his voice, Mise Brun uttered a cry of 
joy and threw herself on her knees before him. 
Her face was covered with tears of joy and sur- 
prise. 

‘‘ It is you ! it is you ! ” said she. “ Thank 
Heaven ! you will save me.” 

The excess of her emotion overcame her ; she 
f 1 almost fainting near the chair in which he sat, 
I ad yet she extended her clasped hands to him, 
I with an expression of hope, of confidence, of de- 
light, which would have melted a heart of ice. 

The stranger turned as pale as death before 
this vision, and looked at her in silent stupefac- 
tion, as if he doubted the evidence of his own 
senses at seeing her in this place of all others. 

“ Is it you ? ” he asked. 

“Yes, it is I ! ” said Mise Brun, smiling through 


126 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


her tears. “ Do you not know me ? Have you for- 
gotten my face ? ” 

The man rose and pressed his hand to his lips, 
and then to his heart, as if he dared not trust him- 
self to speak. He looked at her silently, but it 
was a look which told her all. No I he had not 
forgotten that face ! He gently raised Mise Brun 
and seated her in a chair, while he leaned on the 
table, on which were papers, the remains of a light 
supper, and his sword and side arms. 

“ Is it possible that I see you here ? ” said he, 
in an altered voice. “ How have you come, and 
why have you stopped here ? ” 

This question recalled Mise Brun to her senses. 
She looked toward the door with a gesture of 
fright, and replied, lowering her voice : 

“ My husband was going to the fair at Grasse 
to sell his jewelry, and brought me with him. 
To-day an accident detained us ; then the storm 
came, and we were compelled to remain. I was 
not alarmed or impatient, until I found by acci- 
dent that we have been betrayed into a net, a 
snare. Oh, sir ! we are not alone here. A man 
whose insolent gallantries I have repulsed before, 
a man from whom you have once saved me, is 
here with his people. I have been told that he 
means me ill ! Oh ! save me, sir ! The hostess 
is his creature ; he will rob and kill my husband. 
Save me ! ” 

While she spoke a strange splendid fire burned 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


127 


in the stranger’s eyes. He bit his lips, and reached 
his hand toward the glittering arms which lay 
near Mise Brun. 

“So it is the Marquis de Nieuselle, is it, 
again ? ” said he, half to himself. 

He started to leave the room, but Mise threw 
herself before him. 

“ Where are you going ? ” said she, holding his 
arm. “ They are three or four against one, and 
they are all armed. They will kill you ! No, 
you shall not expose yourself to save me ! No ! ” 

The stranger smiled. 

“ They will not kill me, you need not fear,” 
said he. “ I can save you from this man. Sit 
quietly here until I return ! ” 

He forced her gently back to her seat, went 
out, and shut the door. Mise Brun, more dead 
than alive, felt a cold sweat break over her ; she 
trembled in every limb ; her strength left her ; 
she breathed with difficulty ; she could hear her 
heart beat. But all her faculties remained, and 
served her with perfect accuracy. She saw with 
phenomenal clearness everything about her. By 
a miracle of memory she afterward recalled what 
then she saw, with eyes that seemed not to see ! 
She was struck with astonishment later, that the 
contrast between this room and the others she had 
seen in the wretched inn did not at the moment 
force itself on her dazed senses. 

She was seated in an elegant chair covered with 


128 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


brocade, near a gold and marble table, whose claw- 
feet rested in the thick velvet of a superb carpet. 
The chimney was ornamented with a mirror, which 
gave her back her own pale face, and before which 
stood a superb clock, and near it bronzes and ap- 
propriate garnitures. Two medallion portraits in 
heavy gilt frames hung either side of the mirror. 
In fact, everywhere the apartment showed signs 
of the most perfect luxury ; it was a palace in a 
prison. 

In her terrible agitation she could not even 
pray. She tried to kneel down, but her enfeebled 
limbs refused to obey her. Happily, this did not 
last long. Perhaps a quarter, perhaps a half hour 
had struck on the gilded clock, when she heard 
rapid steps in the corridor. The stranger reen- 
tered. 

Mise Brun raised her hands and eyes to heaven. 
“ Thank God ! you have returned ! and Monsieur 
de Meuselle ? ” 

‘‘ You have nothing more to fear from him,” 
said the stranger, calmly. Then, after a mo- 
ment’s pause : ‘‘ You have heard nothing, have 
you ? ” 

‘‘No,” said Mis6 Brun ; “nothing.” 

A long silence followed these words. The 
stranger had laid his pistols on the table ; he was 
very pale, but there was no disarrangement of 
dress, no disorder, which spoke of any recent 
struggle or quarrel. 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


129 


Yet Mise Brun was filled with a sort of fear 
and apprehension, which she dared not put into 
words, however. She grew calmer, and began to 
hope that after all nothing very terrible could 
have happened. This redoubtable friend of hers 
had perhaps locked Nieuselle up in the cellar. 
The lodge of Esterel looked as if it could accom- 
modate any number of inconvenient admirers with 
cells for a night. Had there been anything worse, 
she would have heard, at least, the report of 
a pistol. 

Her unknown benefactor meantime had seated 
himself near her, and was leaning his head on his 
hand, while he looked at her with a sort of trou- 
bled joy, as if the impression of happiness in see- 
ing her came to him slowly. Mise Brun’s pallor 
began to give way under the ardent warmth of 
this gaze ; she felt the color rising in her cheeks, 
and tried to speak. 

“ I do not know how to thank you, sir, for this 
help, which you have now twice extended to me. 
God will reward you. I can now pass the night 
without fear — ” 

She interrupted herself, struck by a sudden 
thought. “I had forgotten. There is another 
terrible danger.” 

What ? ” added the stranger. 

“This house is the resort of a band of robbers ; 
the hostess is in league with them. In a moment, 
in an hour, they may be upon us.” 

9 


130 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


‘‘You have been warned of this also?” said 
the man, quietly. 

“ Yes. Do not attempt any resistance ; it 
would be folly. It is not like locking up one cow- 
ard, who merely insults a woman. These are ruf- 
fians who steal and rob. Let them take our poor 
goods, our jewelry, if they demand it ; let them 
take your money. They will kill you if you at- 
tempt to resist ; hut I hear that they do not try 
to kill you if you give up your purse quietly. 
What matters it, so we escape with our lives ? ” 

The stranger listened to her with a calmness 
which contrasted oddly with her agitation. 

“You do not believe me,” said she. “You 
think fear has turned my brain. Would to God 
that it were so ! But you may believe me. To- 
night we shall be robbed by the band of Gaspard 
de Besse.” 

“ No ; calm yourself,” said he. “ If any one 
enters this house to-night, he must get these 
keys from me,” and he showed her a bunch which 
lay with his sword. “ Believe me, I command the 
situation to-night. No robbers will trouble you ; 
the worst robber is silenced.” 

“ Ah ! we are saved,” said Mise Brun, joyful- 
ly. “ I can sleep to-night calmly. We are under 
your protection. Now I must go. Good-night ! 
I shall never forget — indeed, I have not forgotten 
for many months — your name in my prayers.” 

“ My name / ” said he, astonished. 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


131 


I 


“ Yes. You are Monsieur de Galti^res.” 

“ Where have you learned it ? ” he asked. 

She told him the whole story which Madelon 
had learned from the cripple, and of the terrible 
murder of that poor creature. 

He listened gravely. 

Yes,” said he, “ you have learned truly the 
sad beginning of my life, its errors and misfor- 
tunes.” 

And now — what is it now ? ” said she, fixing 
upon him a look so soft, and betraying an interest 
so deep, so ineffable, that the blood rose to his 
temples. 

“ How,” said he, returning the gaze — “ now 
my existence is that of a man condemned to pass 
and repass, without hope or rest, the edge of a 
precipice over which he may at any moment fall 
and be lost forever.” 

“ The mercy of God will not permit such a 
misfortune,” said Mise Brun, raising her eyes and 
hands to heaven. 

“ Another fate might have been mine,” he re- 
sumed, after a moment’s thought. “ I have 
dreamed of it. I had even prepared for it. I 
was about to leave France forever, when — when 
I met you.” 

She looked at him for a moment ; these two 
souls read each other, and the feebler was the 
stronger of the two. All of their mutual love 
which had never been spoken, all of that renunci- 


132 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


ation of which hers was by far the hardest part, 
looked out of her eyes as she said : 

“ You must accomplish this project, if I have 
any influence with you. I beg of you to leave 
this country forever, where your life is not safe, 
and from which all ties which can bind a man to 
his home have been sundered.” 

‘‘ That is true,” said he, sadly. “ I have lost 
all that makes the pride and the happiness of 
other men — my place at the paternal fireside, my 
rank in the world. I shall never again enter that 
home where I passed the tranquil years of infancy 
and youth. My name has been stricken from the 
family-tree, and I am dead to all my own people. 
But I have had one hope, one little ray of hope, 
since I first saw you ; it was the hope of seeing 
you once more.” 

Mise Brun rose and tried to leave him, for she 
felt every resolution of truth and honor dying in 
her heart as she listened to this voice. Religion, 
duty, all were being vanquished. But Monsieur 
de Galti^res held her back with a sort of suppli- 
cating violence. 

Listen,” said he ; “ it is my life, my eternal 
welfare, and your own happiness, which you now 
hold in your hands. What do I dare to propose ? 
It is this : Give yourself to me — follow me — be 
mine. What would you leave behind you ? 
Anything to regret ? Your youth is withered 
and consumed by a dreadful unhappiness ; you 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


133 


are cruelly alone ; your husband does not love 
you. Who cares for your life but me ? You are 
not of the family you have entered, for you have 
never given them your heart. They took you in 
from the most sordid motives. Are you afraid 
that you will leave behind you a dishonored 
name ? No. If you disappear to-night, you will 
be thought to have been murdered in the lodge 
of Esterel, and your memory will remain without 
spot. Think of all this, in the two fates which 
we may unite to-night. Should we give ourselves 
to each other, propitious fate will assist us. I 
have power, men, money, fleet horses. To-morrow 
morning we should have passed the frontier. 
Once at Nice, the sea is before us ; we can go to 
the other side of the world. Do you wish me to 
carry you so far, dear one? or shall we stayin’ 
that soft Italian clime, on the border of some lake, 
from which you can still see the mountains of 
Provence? Decide, command me ! I am yours 
for life and death. Do anything but desert me, 
for you are my last dream of happiness. With 
you I am saved, without you I am lost. Ah, 
where, to what spot of earth may I take you ? 
Believe me, I shall make you happy ! ” 

While he poured out these burning words in a 
voice whose echo was music to her heart, Mise 
Brun standing before him, her arms crossed on her 
bosom, her eyes fixed on his, seemed to be deliv- 
ered over to some internal struggle, before which 


134 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


her strength was giving way. Half conquered, 
she still had force left her to know that she must 
leave him before she heard again these words 
which subjugated her will ; and, making a mighty 
effort, she said, without any ostentation of virtue 
or of firmness, but with a broken voice, and with 
eyes full of tears : 

‘‘ Do not try to turn me away from my duty. 
Have pity on me, in the name of Heaven, and do 
not keep me here. If I stay, I am lost for this 
life and the next. There is no country to which 
we could fly from the pursuit of conscience. No 
luxury could make happy a guilty life. Our love 
for each other would become our punishment, if 
the smile of Heaven did not rest upon it ! If I 
should hide my sin from the eyes of men, God 
would still see me ! I beg of you, I pray you, do 
not look at me ! Let me leave you ! ” 

He turned away, conquered by this humble 
resistance, and Mise Brun saw him lean his head 
on the chimney-piece near one of the medallion 
portraits which she had noticed. It was a beau- 
tiful female face, so like him that she believed 
that she knew who it must be. 

‘‘Your mother?” said she, returning to his 
side. 

He extended one hand to her, without looking 
at her. She took his hand, knelt, and kissed it, 
pressed it to her heart, to her lips, and covered it 
with her tears. 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


135 


“ SLe will bless you, and receive you in heav- 
en, for three times have you saved me.” 

And without another word she left the room, 
to see him no more. 

The goldsmith slept, and slept loudly. At the 
noise which his wife made in entering his room, 
he awoke and regarded her sleepily. 

“ What time is it ? ” said he. 

I do not know ; it must be very late,” said 

she. 

‘‘I think I have been asleep,” said Bruno. 
“Well, it is better to pass the night here than in 
the forest. Are you hungry ? I am not. I think 
we will save the expense of a supper. Who 
sleeps, eats, the proverb says. Well, come to bed, 
wife ; we must start early in the morning.” 

She obeyed mechanically. All her faculties 
were in a state of stupor. It was annihilation and 
not repose which succeeded to the violent emo- 
tions that overcame her. She passed the night 
with her eyes open, listening to the sounds which 
occasionally reached her ear, or replying to the 
occasional sleepy questions which Bruno asked, as 
to the hour, or if it were still raining. 

A little before dawn she heard steps in the 
corridor, and a slight noise down-stairs. Soon 
after a horse’s resounding trot passed over the 
stones, and was lost in the distance. 

She turned her face toward the pillow and 


136 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


wept silently. All was over but memory. For 
him, the outside world, action, adventure, and 
hope ; for her, silence, and despair, and tears. 

An hour later Bruno Brun arose and called 
for the little servant. She appeared pale and 
haggard. 

“ The horse is harnessed in the carriage,” she 
said ; your boxes can be put in if ready.” 

Where is our driver ? ” said Bruno Brun. 

“ Oh ! he got drunk after supper last night, 
and we have found you another,” said she, mak- 
ing a sign at Mise Brun. 

“ How ! another driver ? ” said Brun. 

“No matter ; he was not a good driver, and I 
am glad we are rid of him,” said Mis4 Brun. 

The goldsmith was too anxious to be off to 
trouble himself much about further explanations. 
He ate his breakfast and made his preparations 
to depart. While he was arranging his boxes the 
little servant took Mise Brun through the kitchen 
garden to the summer-house, and, putting a par- 
cel in her hands, said : 

“ He left this for you. Oh ! Holy Virgin ! 
what a night we have passed ! God only knows 
what will come of it all.” a 

“ Come, Rose ! I am waiting,” said the gold- 
smith. 

Mise Brun had only time to shake the hand of 
her poor little friend. 

“ Good-by,” said she. “ God will reward you 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


137 


for your kindness to me. Leave this dreadful 
house, my child ; seek a more honest home.” 

A light west wind had swept away the clouds ; 
the morning was fresh and serene. The sun light- 
ed up with rosy tints the gloomy facade of the 
I lodge of Esterel. 

Mise Brun took her place in the humble equi- 
page which was to carry her away. She turned 
her eyes for the last time toward this place, whose 
memory was to haunt her to the last day of her 
life. As the carriage moved on, a ray of sunlight 
fell through the lower windows, and revealed to 
[ her a man’s body lying motionless on the ground 
floor. The chill which struck through her made 
her feel that she had seen a corpse — perhaps that 
of Nieuselle. 

But the glance was momentary; it might have 
been Siffroi sleeping off his drunken fit, or lying 
there awaiting his master’s orders. She did not 
i know. The incident ceased to trouble her. She 
I pressed the packet which she had hidden in her 
1 bosom, afraid to look at it, lest Bruno should sur- 
prise her secret. But he was far from troubling 
himself about his wife ; her secret anguish, her 
fears, her dreams, were matters of profound un- 
concern to him ; he was regretting the plain 
daughter of Mise Magnan, if he ever thought of 
her at all. But he was delighted with his new 
horse and driver, who were taking him over the 
ground at mail-coach speed. 


138 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


“Ah ! we travel post ! ” said he. “ You are a 
good driver. I shall give you something to drink, 
my brave fellow ! ” 

At the foot of the last descent, having com- 
pleted the passage of Esterel, it became necessary 
to stop, to show their papers at the custom-house 
and to rest the horse. While Bruno showed his 
papers and transacted some necessary business, 
his wife wandered off under a grove of chestnuts 
which shaded the road, and opened the mysteri- 
ous packet with a trembling hand. 

The envelope hid a miniature which Mise Brun 
remembered as having hung under the medallions 
on the mantelpiece in the room where she had 
passed the most dreadful and the sweetest hours 
of her life. It was a portrait of Monsieur de Gal- 
tieres, and a perfect resemblance. Set in the gold 
case at the back was a lock of hair, with his ini- 
tials and the crest of his family, and a legend 
traced on the gold showed to Mise Brun that 
it had been painted for his mother. 

By a spontaneous and involuntary movement 
she pressed her lips to the portrait. She saw that 
it was a younger and a happier man than the one 
she knew, but still it was himself — the last record 
perhaps of his innocent and brilliant youth. She 
hid it in her bosom. If it was a sin, let us hope 
that her sufferings and renunciation pleaded for 
her, and that a gentler hand than ours and a more 
merciful judge dealt with her erring heart as it 
deserved. 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


139 


[ Two hours later the travelers arrived at Grasse. 

“ Thank Heaven ! ” said Bruno, jumping out 
! of the carriage, ‘‘ we have arrived in time for the 
I opening of the fair.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

Eight days later, the family of the Bruns re- 
assembled about their own dinner-table, where 
Madelon served them an uncommonly delicious 
dinner. Mise Brun, pleading extreme fatigue, left 
them early ; hut the goldsmith, his aunt, and his 
father, lingered to talk. 

“ The fair was very busy, and I sold a great 
deal I have done very well,” said Bruno, with 
an air of conceit and satisfaction. 

“ Your wife looks very badly,” said old Brun. 

“ Oh ! that is no matter,” said Bruno. ‘‘ She 
is tired. When we started she was delighted ! 
She liked to travel, and to see the mountains. But 
she soon got tired of it all. When we came back 
through the woods of Esterel she never got out 
once, to pick flowers or to hear the birds sing, but 
sat still in the corner of the carriage. When we 
passed the lodge of Esterel she put her head out 
to inquire for our driver, whom we left there ; but 
there was nobody about. The hostess and maid 
had gone away ; it was all shut up. She did not 


140 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


show any interest in the home journey, and I think 
she is glad to get back here and be quiet.” 

‘‘ And at Grasse — ^how did she behave there ? ” 
said Aunt Marianne. 

“ Oh ! I want to tell you about that,” said 
Bruno, clapping his hands. “ I had the best stall 
at the fair, and everybody crowded about to look 
at Rose. They made verses about her, and talked 
about her beauty everywhere. She brought me a 
great deal of custom. I sold watch-chains and 
rings to all the young beaux. But she took no 
notice of anybody. She was sad and tired all the 
time, and once or twice I saw tears in her eyes. I 
scolded her roundly, and told her to rouse herself 
and tend the shop, and then she became more in- 
dustrious. Oh ! we did a good business.” 

“You must not trust to appearances,” said 
Aunt Marianne, shaking her head. “Women who 
have nothing to hide are not up and down, sad 
and gay, gay and sad, in this fashion. Her mel- 
ancholy ways trouble me very much. I know she 
is concealing something.” 

The Sunday following, the goldsmith went 
early to make his devotions at the chapel of the 
Blue Penitents. He returned with his eyes start- 
ing out of his head and his hands in the depths 
of his pockets, and with every sign of agitation 
about him. 

“ What do you think has happened ? Every- 
body is talking about it in the city,” said he to his 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


141 


( -N^dfe and Aunt Marianne. “ A young nobleman 
, who has often done me the honor to come to my 
shop, the Marquis de Nieuselle, has been mur- 
dered. And where, do you suppose. Rose? At 
the lodge of Esterel, where we spent the night. 
Oh ! a bad place that ! ” 

“ Is he dead ? ” asked Mise Brun, turning pale, 

I and sinking into her seat. 

“ Good riddance to bad rubbish ! ” said Made- 
I Ion, fiercely. 

i ‘‘He had apparently stopped for the night 
I there,” continued the goldsmith. “ He was found 
j in the cellar, his face to the ground, murdered, 
wdth a bullet through his head. He had been 
assassinated, no doubt, by Gaspard de Besse or 
one of his band. Great Heaven ! the night we 
spent there, we might have met the same fate.” 

“ Go and burn a candle before the altar of the 
Virgin Mary,” said Aunt Marianne to her nephew, 
significantly, struck with the profound impression 
which this news had made upon her niece. “ Go ; 
you have perhaps more reason for gratitude than 
you are aware of.” 

Thus suddenly did the poor young woman 
learn of the terrible proof which Monsieur de 
Galtieres had given her of his devotion. 

She was seized with a strange feeling of min- 
gled gratitude and horror. Her memory traveled 
over the events of that fatal night ; they recurred 
with terrible and involuntary perseverance to her 


142 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


mind. She now understood why Monsieur de Gal- 
tieres left the lodge at break of day, and she com- 
prehended the full meaning of the last words of 
the poor little Maritana of the inn, who had been 
so much her friend. She recalled, shuddering, 
what she had seen, as she threw one last look back 
at the tragic spot where she had experienced so 
much. In the midst of all her trouble, she thanked 
God that circumstances permitted the belief that 
Nieuselle had fallen by the hand of some bandit, 
who made his ambuscade in the defiles of Esterel. 

These dreadful memories began to tell upon 
her. She sank into a physical and moral apathy 
which looked like repose. No one noticed that it 
was more like death than sleep but Father Theo- 
tiste, who loved her, who understood her better 
than the rest, and who asked her from time to 
time to tell him her thoughts. 

‘‘Leave me in peace, dear father,” said she. 
“I dare not speak of myself, or reflect on my 
situation. I cannot talk of my sorrow. Perhaps 
some day I may have the courage to tell you 
everything, but not now — not now.” 

“ I will wait, dear child,” said the compassion- 
ate old man — “ wait until you can speak without 
effort and without suffering.” 

But Mise Brun’s faculties did not lie in this 
dormant state long. She was too young and 
strong to die without further agony and suffer- 
ing. Rebellious and feverish passions began to 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


143 


grow in her heart again. She abandoned herself 
to the only happiness she had ever known in her 
life — to dreams of this man. One hour in the 
day she was freed from the horrible constraint 
which guarded her life ; it was that hour which 
Aunt Marianne passed in the shop with Bruno 
Brun, helping him arrange his accounts. Then 
she would shut herself in her room and look at 
the portrait of Monsieur de Galti^res, covering it 
with her hot tears. 

This picture was a striking one. The face it 
portrayed was full of courage, even audacity. 
The black eyebrows were clearly lined on a pale, 
low brow. The nose was delicately made, slight- 
ly aquiline, and perfectly chiseled. The com- 
plexion, pale and dark, had little or no red in it, 
except the small and firmly - closed lips, which 
were vermilion ; over this perfect mouth a short 
black mustache shaded the upper lip, giving a 
soldier-like air to the face. 

The face bore a proud, haughty, and rebellious 
expression ; there was an incipient line in the 
white forehead, which could deepen into a scowl. 
It would have expressed a violent and pitiless 
character, this face, but for one of those contra- 
dictions which always put to flight the decisions 
of Lavater and his disciples on the subject of 
physiognomy. The eyes of this somewhat aus- 
tere countenance had the exquisite tenderness, 
the almost laughing serenity of those divine orbs 


■■144 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


which the Monna Lisa wears through the ages. 
They are large, black, and soft as velvet. The 
long, curling lashes, the shape, the expression, 
the shadow and light, of these beautiful eyes 
were beyond all praise. Words could not describe 
them. They showed that in this mixed and im- 
perfect nature there was one well-spring of gener- 
osity and nobility, one pure drop which could not 
be tainted or sullied. 

Mise Brun looked into the depths of these 
eyes, and adored them. She gave herself up to 
that most dangerous happiness, the pleasure of 
loving f6r love’s sake, and then fell again into the 
abyss of despair and dejection. One cannot live 
on dreams. They only made her dull life more 
unendurable ; and at length, in her despair, she 
wildly repented that she had not followed Mon- 
sieur de Galti^res. She dared not confess this 
thought to Father Theotiste ; she dared not tell 
him of the wicked longings of her heart. She 
buried these feelings, and awaited vaguely some 
possible road out of her sufferings. Many months 
passed over her head. The winter came and went, 
and the spring brought around again the epoch 
of those ceremonies which always attracted stran- 
gers to Aix. 

Mise Brun thought of the FUe-Dieu and its 
spectacular drama with inexpressible agitation. 
Sometimes she believed that Monsieur de Galti^res 
would not fail her at this unmentioned rendez- 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 145 

vous ; again she hoped that he had taken her 
I advice and had left France. She knew not what 
1 she hoped or feared. Sometimes she believed 
: firmly that he would come, then again she felt all 
I conviction and all hope leave her. It was the 
fable of Tantalus ! 

At length the evening arrived. The trumpets 
sounded ; the fireworks sputtered, sparkled, and 
. smoked. The same joyous crowd went by ; the 
I grotesque figures of the pious and original drama, 
I written by King R 4 ne, defiled through the streets 
of the city of Aix. The divinities of Olympus, 
the holy personages of the Old Testament, and 
the political enemies of King Rene, the trouba- 

I dour king, again performed their solemn and ri- 
diculous masque. The middle ages came again in 
glittering paraphernalia, to please these simple 
Proven9als, who keep through all the ages their 
laughing, gay, and careless natures. 

“Come,” said Bruno Brun, putting up his 
[ shutters — “ Come, Rose ! let us go out and see 
the procession.” 

She went, as she had always done, calmly, 
obediently, and patiently, and took her seat be- 
tween Aunt Marianne and Madelon. She was 
paler, and her eyes, always glorious, were larger 
and clearer than before. Her beauty, which had 
been that of a flower, was now that of a saint. 
She looked as if some holy maiden, fresh from the 
rapt fancy of Fra Angelico, had stepped down 
10 


146 


THE GOLDSMITH’S .WIFE. 


from the gilded portal, and was walking the earth 
• with common mortals. 

Although she did not look around her, some- 
thing told her that Monsieur de Galti^res was in 
that crowd. When she raised her eyes, and they 
ceased to he dazzled hy the light of the torches, 
she saw him. There he stood, in the same spot 
where she had seen him the year before, his eyes 
fixed on her. When their eyes met, he gave her 
a smile which filled her world with a light clearer, 
brighter than sunshine. He put his hand on his 
heart, as if to renew his mute promises of devo- 
tion and obedience. She mechanically returned 
this gesture, then looked down, and let her hands 
fall on her knees. For her, the ceremonies of the 
FUe-Dieu were ended. 

What is the matter with you ? ” said Aunt 
Marianne, shaking her roughly. ‘‘You look like 
the idiot of Figanieres, who mistook St. Chris- 
topher’s hat for the village clock ! Rouse your- 
self, and don’t be so stupid ! Look at the proces>- 
sion.” 

Ten minutes later Bruno Brun rose and gave 
her another shake. “ Come in,” said he, looking 
at the procession with a sigh of admiration and 
regret. “We shall not see it again for another 
year.” 

“ Another year ! ” echoed Mise Brun, and she 
quietly followed him into the house. 

Some months passed ; the sumnier ripened 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


147 


j into autumn. The young woman, sad, agitated, 
i her heart devoured by this hidden love, felt each 
day, each hour of her life drag on with leaden 
feet. Nothing in her manner, however, betrayed 
to the dull people about her what was passing in 
her heart. She was always calm, submissive, 

, hard-working, imperiously governed by the laws 
of her household. She grew paler and thinner, 
and Aunt Marianne told her that she looked like 
a ghost ; but she said nothing. Once Madelon 
found her in a swoon in her chair, but she re- 
vived, and told her not to alarm her husband or 
her aunt. 

One Sunday the goldsmith came in radiant. 

“ I have some good news to tell you,” said he, 
cheerfully : “the assassin of the Marquis de Nieu- 
selle is arrested.” 

Mise Brun raised her eyes and looked earnestly 
at her husband. She moved her lips as if she 
would speak, but not a sound came out of them. 
There was such a look of mute despair and horror 
in her face that the goldsmith was frightened, and 
looked at her for a moment. 

^ “Well!” said he, impatiently, “are you not 
; glad that Gaspard de Besse is caught at last ? ” 
i At this name, this complete reassurance, poor 
IVIise Brun gave way to her feelings, and, burying 
; her face in her hands, burst into tears. 

Aunt Marianne looked at her like an angry 
spider, and taking Bruno one side, said to him : 


148 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


“ Bruno, I believe she is dying of love for that 
wretched libertine, that Marquis de Nieuselle ! ” ‘ 
“ I do not feel at all troubled about a cavalier 
who is six feet underground,” said Bruno, shrug- 
ging his shoulders. 

Mise Brun joined them at this moment, and, 
looking them through and through with her great 
blue eyes, said solemnly : 

“ God forbid that you should speak ill of the 
dead ! ” 

Bruno Brun moved away uneasily. Something 
of his wife’s superior nature began to penetrate 
through the dull opaque of his soul, and to make 
him uncomfortable. 

“ The whole city is out,” said he ; “ the streets 
are as full as on the FUe-Dieu. This afternoon 
they bring in Gaspard de Besse and two of his 
scoundrels whom they have caught. I am going 
to see them. I shall enjoy that ! ” 

“ Ah ! ” murmured the young woman, three 
men so stained with crime ! How can you wish 
to see them ? What will they do with them ? ” 

“ Condemn them to death immediately. They 
will be beheaded to-night, and then — then for my 
confraternity of the Blue Penitents. They will 
need our services. Ah ! ” 

And Bruno drew his hand across his throat 
with a greedy enjoyment. 

He went out early to attend to his favorite 
amusement, and the three Avomen remained at 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


149 


home, listening to the tolling of bells, the noise 
of the crowd, and the shouting of the multitude. 

“ I can do nothing to-day,” said Aunt Mari- 
anne. “ Open the window ; I want to look out. 
I am sure there is a great crowd ! ” 

Madelon came back hastily. 

Come ! come ! ” said she ; ‘‘ Gaspard de Besse 
is being escorted to the church of St. Sauveur to 
make his confession, and to prepare for death. 
Come out and see the sight ! ” 

“Come,” said Aunt Marianne, seizing Mise 
Brun’s arm, “ come along with us.” 

“ Oh no ! ” said Rose — “ oh no ! Why, in 
Heaven’s name, look at this unhappy wretch ? I 
do not wish to see his agony. Ho ; let me stay 
here.” 

“ Ho ! ” said the spiteful old woman ; “ none 
of your fine-lady airs. You shall come ! ” 

“ Come,” said Madelon ; “ it is like the pro- 
cession of the FUe-Dieu.^"* 

At these words, thinking, perhaps, that Mon- 
sieur de Galtieres might be in the crowd — too 
feeble to resist the united force of this secret 
hope, and also Aunt Marianne’s muscular grasp — 
poor Mise Brun was dragged to the door. 

A compact multitude filled the street, and 
gazed at the sad procession which came slowly on. 
An ominous silence reigned in this usually noisy 
crowd, broken only by the solemn music of a 
dead march, which came from the distant square. 


150 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


where the gibbet was already erected. The slow 
tramp of feet of the soldiers and officers of justice 
fell upon the ear. Then came a stifled cry : See ! 
see ! here he comes ! ” The condemned man 
walked firmly on. Father Theotiste, crucifix in 
hand, and praying audibly, walked by his side. 
The headsman walked a little in the rear, and af- 
ter him the two lieutenants who followed their 
chief to his death. Then came the ghastly troop 
of the Blue Penitents, their bodies in a species of 
shroud, which enveloped them entirely, while slits 
cut for the eyes gave to their faces the expression 
of a vampire bat. They walked two and two, 
bearing on their shoulders the coffins of the con- 
demned men. Mise Brun looked around for the 
reassuring glance of Monsieur de Galtieres in the 
crowd, but did not see him. She tried not to see 
the condemned man, but by some cruel chance 
her eyes fell upon him as he passed her door. 

He was looking full at her. Their eyes met 
again'; again he smiled — a last, a terrible fare- 
well. 

“ It is he, it is Monsieur de Galtieres ! ” she 
murmured, and fell fainting on the floor. 

Madelon took her up and laid her on a couch, 
with her strong peasant arms. 

“ Poor woman, poor mistress ! ” said she, as 
she threw some water in her face. 

Aunt Marianne did not notice this incident, so 
.absorbed and pleased was she with the Blue Pen- 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


151 


itents ; and, Avlien she returned to the back shop, 
she began reading the prayers for the dying so 
diligently that she did not observe Mise Brun’s 
absence. 

At supper she came down from her chamber, 
and assisted at the gloomy meal. 

Bruno Brun was in high spirits. I can tes- 
tify,” said he, “ as to the last moments of Gaspard 
de Besse. He died like a man. Even the torture 
could not make him confess his name or his past 
life. He criminated nobody, but asked mercy for 
his lieutenants. Father Theotiste never left him, 
but prayed and wept by his side, gave him abso- 
lution, and received his last kiss. Then we served 
him with our pious duties, and saw him decently 
buried. Oh ! it was very interesting ! ” 

Mise Brun heard all these details with a calm 
and almost inattentive air. Her husband told 
her that she was paler than usual. 

“ Am I ? ” said she. 

The next morning she could not rise from her 
bed. Aunt Marianne and Madelon came to at- 
tend to her. 

Send for Father Theotiste,” said she, “ for 
the hand of death is upon me.” 

He came, and, as he had served Monsieur de 
Galti5res, te served her. He led her through the 
dark valley of the shadow of death. He whis- 
pered in her ear a message which he had received 
for her alone, and he placed in her dying hands 


152 


THE GOLDSMITH’S WIFE. 


the little prayer-book which she had given away 
in the cloister of the church of St. Sauveur. 

“He prayed on this book that he might be 
forgiven,” said the good monk. “Do you also 
pray for the forgiveness of your sins.” 

“ My father,” said she, with faint voice, “ shall 
we be forgiven ? ” 

“ My daughter,” said Father Th4otiste, kneel- 
ing by her side, “ God calls to us all with a dif- 
ferent voice. He has assured us that repentance, 
even at the last, shall lead us to heaven.” 


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